f the night. I compromised with the inevitable by having Wada
make up my bed on the deck in the shelter of the cabin skylight just
for'ard of the jiggermast. Henry, the two sail-makers and the steward,
variously equipped with knives and clubs, were stationed along the break
of the poop.

And right here I wish to pass my first criticism on modern mutiny. On
ships like the _Elsinore_ there are not enough weapons to go around. The
only firearms now aft are Captain West's .38 Colt revolver, and my .22
automatic Winchester. The old steward, with a penchant for hacking and
chopping, has his long knife and a butcher's cleaver. Henry, in addition
to his sheath-knife, has a short bar of iron. Louis, despite a most
sanguinary array of butcher-knives and a big poker, pins his cook's faith
on hot water and sees to it that two kettles are always piping on top the
cabin stove. Buckwheat, who on account of his wound is getting all night
in for a couple of nights, cherishes a hatchet.

The rest of our retainers have knives and clubs, although Yatsuda, the
first sail-maker, carries a hand-axe, and Uchino, the second sail-maker,
sleeping or waking, never parts from a claw-hammer. Tom Spink has a
harpoon. Wada, however, is the genius. By means of the cabin stove he
has made a sharp pike-point of iron and fitted it to a pole. To-morrow
be intends to make more for the other men.

It is rather shuddery, however, to speculate on the terrible assortment
of cutting, gouging, jabbing and slashing weapons with which the
mutineers are able to equip themselves from the carpenter's shop. If it
ever comes to an assault on the poop there will be a weird mess of wounds
for the survivors to dress. For that matter, master as I am of my little
rifle, no man could gain the poop in the day-time. Of course, if rush
they will, they will rush us in the night, when my rifle will be
worthless. Then it will be blow for blow, hand-to-hand, and the
strongest pates and arms will win.

But no. I have just bethought me. We shall be ready for any night-rush.
I'll take a leaf out of modern warfare, and show them not only that we
are top-dog (a favourite phrase of the mate), but _why_ we are top-dog.
It is simple--night illumination. As I write I work opt the
idea--gasoline, balls of oakum, caps and gunpowder from a few cartridges,
Roman candles, and flares blue, red, and green, shallow metal receptacles
to carry the explosive and inflammable stuff;