"Has everybody gone mad?" inquired Mr. Chalk, approaching the mate again.
"Everybody except you, sir," said Mr. Duckett, with great politeness.
Mr. Chalk looked forward again and nearly dropped his rifle as he saw
three or four tousled heads protruding from the galley. Instinctively he
took a step towards Mr. Duckett, and instinctively that much-enduring man
threw up his hands and cried to him not to shoot. Mr. Chalk, pale of
face and trembling of limb, strove to reassure him.
"But it's pointing towards me," said the mate, "and you've got your
finger on the trigger."
[Illustration: "'It's pointing towards me,' said the mate."]
Mr. Chalk apologized.
"What did Tredgold and Stobell run away for?" he demanded.
Mr. Duckett said that perhaps they were--like himself--nervous of
firearms. He also, in reply to further questions, assured him that the
mutiny was an affair of the past, and, gaining confidence, begged him to
hold the wheel steady for a moment. Mr. Chalk, still clinging to his
weapons, laid hold of it, and the mate, running to the companion, called
to those below. Led by Mr. Stobell they came on deck.
"It's all over now," said Tredgold, soothingly.
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