“Closed the companion!” repeated Hezekiah, as he drew his knife.  “He can smash it like cardboard, if the fit takes him.  Go in here.”

He opened the door of his state-room.

“Shan’t!” said Miss Rumbolt politely.

“Go in at once!” cried the skipper.  “Quick with you.”

“Sha—­” began Miss Rumbolt again.  Then she caught his eye, and went in like a lamb.  “You come too,” she said prettily.

“I’ve got to look after my ship and my men,” said the skipper.  “I suppose you thought the ship would steer itself, didn’t you?”

“Mutineers deserve to be eaten,” whimpered Miss Rumbolt piously, somewhat taken aback by the skipper’s demeanour.

Hezekiah looked at her.

“They’re not mutineers, Kate,” he said quietly.  “It was just a piece of mad folly of mine.  They’re as honest a set of old sea dogs as ever breathed, and I only hope they are all safe up aloft.  I’m going to lock you in; but don’t be frightened, it shan’t hurt you.”

He slammed the door on her protests, and locked it, and, slipping the key of the cage in his pocket, took a firm grip of his knife, and, running up the steps, gained the deck.  Then his breath came more freely, for the mate, who was standing a little way up the fore rigging, after tempting the bear with his foot, had succeeded in dropping a noose over its head.  The brute made a furious attempt to extricate itself, but the men hurried down with other lines, and in a short space of time the bear presented much the same appearance as the lion in Aesop’s Fables, and was dragged and pushed, a heated and indignant mass of fur, back to its cage.

Having locked up one prisoner the skipper went below and released the other, who passed quickly from a somewhat hysterical condition to one of such haughty disdain that the captain was thoroughly cowed, and stood humbly aside to let her pass.

The fat seaman was standing in front of the cage as she reached it, and regarding the bear with much satisfaction until Kate sidled up to him, and begged him, as a personal favour, to go in the cage and undo it.

“Undo it!  Why he’d kill me!” gasped the fat seaman, aghast at such simplicity.

“I don’t think he would,” said his tormenter, with a bewitching smile; “and I’ll wear a lock of your hair all my life if you do.  But you’d better give it to me before you go in.”

“I ain’t going in,” said the fat sailor shortly.

“Not for me?” queried Kate archly,

“Not for fifty like you,” replied the old man firmly.  “He nearly had me when he was loose.  I can’t think how he got out.”

“Why, I let him out,” said Miss Rumbolt airily.  “Just for a little run.  How would you like to be shut up all day?”

The sailor was just going to tell her with more fluency than politeness when he was interrupted.  “That’ll do,” said the skipper, who had come behind them.  “Go for’ard, you.  There’s been enough of this fooling; the lady thought you had taken the ship.  Thompson, I’ll take the helm; there’s a little wind coming.  Stand by there.”