coast, and suggested that they should throw in their lot with him and run off with the ship. This suggestion was heartily agreed upon, and it was resolved to make the attempt the following evening at ten o'clock.
It should be mentioned that Gibson, like many another eighteenth-century skipper, was rather too fond of his grog, and on the eventful night he had imbibed somewhat freely and turned into his bunk, instead of going ashore for his usual refreshment. Those of the crew who were not in the present plot had also turned in, but the others remained on deck. At ten o'clock the long-boat from the other ship rowed off to them. Avery gave her a hail, and the boat answered by the agreed watchword thus. "Is your drunken boatswain on board?" Avery replied in the affirmative, and then sixteen able men came on board. The first thing was to secure the hatches, and then very quietly they hauled up the anchor and put to sea without making much noise.
After they had been under way some time, the captain awoke from his drunken sleep and rang his bell. Avery and one other confederate then went into the cabin. "What's the matter with the ship?" queried the "old man." "Does she drive; what weather is it?" For as he realised she was on the move he naturally was forced to the conclusion that the ship was sheering about at her anchor and that a strong wind had sprung up. Avery quickly reassured him, and incidentally gave his waking mind something of a shock. "No," answered the former mate, "no, we're at sea, with a fair wind and good weather." "At sea?" gasped the captain. "How can that be?" "Come, don't be in a fright, but put on your clothes, and I'll let you into a secret. You must know," he went on, "that I am captain of this ship now, and this is my cabin,
