of the three staterooms was maintained by the Nigger—at peril of his neck. A rack held a dozen rifles, five revolvers, and,—at last—my cutlasses. I examined the lot with interest. They were modern weapons,—the new high power 30-40 box-magazine rifle, shooting government ammunition,—and had been used. The revolvers were of course the old 45 Colt's. This was an extraordinary armament for a peaceable schooner of one hundred and fifty tons burden.
The rest of the cabin's fittings were not remarkable. By the configuration of the ship I guessed that two of the staterooms must be rather large. I could make out voices within.
On deck I talked with Captain Selover.
"She's a snug craft," I approached him.
He nodded.
"You have armed her well."
He muttered something of pirates and the China seas.
I laughed.
"You have arms enough to give your crew about two magazine rifles apiece—unless you filled all your berths forward!"
Captain Selover looked me direct in the eye.
"Talk straight, Mr. Eagen," said he.
"What is this ship, and where is she bound?" I asked, with equal simplicity.
He considered.
"As for the ship," he replied at length, "I don't mind saying. You're my first officer, and on you I depend if it comes to—well, the small arms below. If the ship's a little under the shade, why, so are you.
