“He is my friend, Mr. Smith, and at least it is my duty to protect him from any indignity,” said the captain, stiffly.
“You make for Boston, my dear captain, and we’ll do the rest,” said DeMille. “Mr. Brewster can’t countermand your orders unless he sees you in person. We’ll see to it that he has no chance to talk to you until we are in sight of Boston Harbor.”
The captain looked doubtful and shook his head as he walked away. At heart he was with the mutineers and his mind was made up to assist them as long as it was possible to do so without violating his obligations to Brewster. He felt guilty, however, in surreptitiously giving the order to clear for Boston at daybreak. The chief officers were let into the secret, but the sailors were kept in darkness regarding the destination of the Flitter.
Montgomery Brewster’s guests were immensely pleased with the scheme, although they were dubious about the outcome. Mrs. Dan regretted her hasty comment on the plan and entered into the plot with eagerness. In accordance with plans decided upon by the mutineers, Monty’s stateroom door was guarded through the night by two of the men. The next morning as he emerged from his room, he was met by “Subway” Smith and Dan DeMille.
“Good morning,” was his greeting. “How’s the weather today?”
“Bully,” answered DeMille. “By the way, you are going to have breakfast in your room, old man.”
Brewster unsuspectingly led the way into his stateroom, the two following.
“What’s the mystery?” he demanded.
“We’ve been deputized to do some very nasty work,” said “Subway,” as he turned the key in the door. “We are here to tell you what port we have chosen.”
“It’s awfully good of you to tell me.”
“Yes, isn’t it? But we have studied up on the chivalrous treatment of prisoners. We have decided on Boston.”
“Is there a Boston on this side of the water?” asked Monty in mild surprise.
“No; there is only one Boston in the universe, so far as we know. It is a large body of intellect surrounded by the rest of the world.”
“What the devil are you talking about? You don’t mean Boston, Massachusetts?” cried Monty, leaping to his feet.
“Precisely. That’s the port for us and you told us to choose for ourselves,” said Smith.
“Well, I won’t have it, that’s all,” exclaimed Brewster, indignantly. “Captain Perry takes orders from me and from no one else.”
“He already has his orders,” said DeMille, smiling mysteriously.
“I’ll see about that.” Brewster sprang to the door. It was locked and the key was in “Subway” Smith’s pocket. With an impatient exclamation he turned and pressed an electric button.
“It won’t ring, Monty,” explained “Subway.” “The wire has been cut. Now, be cool for a minute or two and we’ll talk it over.”
Brewster stormed for five minutes, the “delegation” sitting calmly by, smiling with exasperating confidence. At last he calmed down and in terms of reason demanded an explanation. He was given to understand that the yacht would sail for Boston and that he would be kept a prisoner for the entire voyage unless he submitted to the will of the majority.
Brewster listened darkly to the proclamation. He saw that they had gained the upper hand by a clever ruse, and that only strategy on his part could outwit them. It was out of the question for him to submit to them now that the controversy had assumed the dignity of a struggle.
“But you will be reasonable, won’t you?” asked DeMille, anxiously.
“I intend to fight it out to the bitter end,” said Brewster, his eyes flashing. “At present I am your prisoner, but it is a long way to Boston.”
For three days and two nights the Flitter steamed westward into the Atlantic, with her temporary owner locked into his stateroom. The confinement was irksome, but he rather liked the sensation of being interested in something besides money. He frequently laughed to himself over the absurdity of the situation. His enemies were friends, true and devoted; his gaolers were relentless but they were considerate. The original order that he should be guarded by one man was violated on the first day. There were times when his guard numbered at least ten persons and some of them served tea and begged him to listen to reason.
“It is difficult not to listen,” he said fiercely. “It’s like holding a man down and then asking him to be quiet. But my time is coming.”
“Revenge will be his!” exclaimed Mrs. Dan, tragically.
“You might have your term shortened on account of good conduct if you would only behave,” suggested Peggy, whose reserve was beginning to soften. “Please be good and give in.”
“I haven’t been happier during the whole cruise,” said Monty. “On deck I wouldn’t be noticed, but here I am quite the whole thing. Besides I can get out whenever I feel like it.”
“I have a thousand dollars which says you can’t,” said DeMille, and Monty snapped him up so eagerly that he added, “that you can’t get out of your own accord.”
Monty acceded to the condition and offered odds on the proposition to the others, but there were no takers.
“That settles it,” he smiled grimly to himself. “I can make a thousand dollars by staying here and I can’t afford to escape.”
On the third day of Monty’s imprisonment the Flitter began to roll heavily. At first he gloated over the discomfort of his guards, who obviously did not like to stay below. “Subway” Smith and Bragdon were on duty and neither was famous as a good sailor. When Monty lighted his pipe there was consternation and “Subway” rushed on deck.
“You are a brave man, Joe,” Monty said to the other and blew a cloud of smoke in his direction. “I knew you would stick to your post.
