“You have brought it on yourselves, and can be mighty certain that we wouldn’t raise a finger to help you now, if the whole gang was starving,” Captain Mansfield shouted from his place of vantage under the rail.
The mutineers began to understand that a speedy punishment was about to overtake them, and the leader cried in a whining tone:
“We’ll die for the want of something to drink, if you leave us.”
“There’s little chance the world will be so lucky as to get rid of you. I shall notify the authorities at Nassau of your whereabouts, as well as of the likelihood that at least a portion of the brig’s cargo will be found on Walker Key, and I reckon you’ll not be left alone very long.”
This acted like a douche of cold water upon the mutineers, who were also, probably, wreckers, and they exhibited every symptom of uneasiness.
“It is time for you to go to work,” Mr. Jenkins said to his prisoner. “Get into the boat with me, and we’ll pull the schooner’s head around so your friends won’t have so good a chance to interfere with us while we weigh the anchor; but remember that if you attempt to give me the slip, I’ll split your head open with this,” and the mate flourished the belaying-pin savagely.
Sheltered from those on the shore by the yacht herself, this portion of the task could be done in comparative safety, and while one of the sailors payed out on the cable the craft was swung around stern on.
Then the men managed to rig up the quarter-deck awning as a screen, without exposing themselves very much, and all hands could now work while hidden from view of the angry scoundrels on the shore.
After this had been done the anchor was weighed, and then the two in the boat pulled and tugged at the oars until the _Day Dream_ was fully a mile from the shore.
This had not been accomplished without some show of remonstrance from the mutineers. When the yacht first began to move through the water, and they understood what was being done, a volley of bullets was discharged at random, many finding their way through the canvas screen; but finally this useless evidence of rage ceased, probably because the ammunition had been exhausted.
Not until they were beyond range did Mr. Jenkins allow his prisoner to cease his efforts, and then, wiping the perspiration from his face, he said: