"He is a weakling and we can manage him,—and I think we can manage some others, too when we get that far."
"How far do you mean?" demanded Peterson, although he knew about what was coming.
"Is anybody else near here?"
"No," and Peterson took a careful look around.
"Supposing we seize the ship—in the name of the Russian Government? They have a Japanese cargo on board, the captain cannot deny it. We can take, the ship, sail her to some Russian port, and win both prize money and glory. Is it not a grand scheme?"
"Ha, that is fine!" Carl Peterson's eyes glowed voraciously. "Ostag, you are a man after my own heart! We might become rich!"
"Then you like the plan?"
"Yes—providing we can make it work. But it is a big undertaking. If we were caught we might swing from a yardarm for it."
"We can make it work—I have another plan for that. I have thought it out completely. We can—but more later," and Ostag Semmel broke off abruptly, as several sailors entered the forecastle. A little later he began to complain in broken English to a sailor named Jack Wilbur that he was suffering from a severe stomach ache.
"Sorry to hear on it," said Wilbur, who was a
