"Therefore, the two
defendants are charged with mutiny on the high seas."

"Are you ready to plead to these specifications?" inquired Jim,
looking at the prisoners' counsel.

"We are," replied John Berwick.

"What is your plea?"

"Not guilty, your Honors."

"We will proceed to trial," said Jim solemnly.

"They deserve the rope's end for their impudence," growled the
captain.

Old Pete was the first witness and he was much impressed by the
dignity of the court, as was evident as he limped in with his hat, or
rather cap, in hand. He took the stand, which was an armchair placed
facing the court, beyond the end of the table. No sooner had he
seated himself than the _Sea Eagle_ gave a sudden lurch to the
starboard, and he would have gone, chair and all, into the wall if
John Berwick had not caught him.

"Beg pardon, your Honors, but this thing ain't anchored right."

"What is your name?" inquired Jim.

"Peter McCloskey, sir."

"Where were you born, Mr. McCloskey?"

"On a farm near Darien, Connecticut," was the answer.

"What is your present occupation?"

"I am sailor aboard the _Sea Eagle_, sir."

"And where were you on the night of August 18th?"

"I was asleep in the fo'scle of the _Sea Eagle_, sir."

"Tell what occurred, if anything."

This Peter McCloskey did with much enthusiasm and picturesque detail,
and then John Berwick, the attorney for the prisoners, started in to
cross-examine the witness, who kept himself firmly anchored by means
of two large feet outspread at separate angles.

"Now, Peter," he commenced suavely, "tell the court how much you drank
on the eventful night of the 18th of August, when you saw these
remarkable apparitions."

"Well, your Honors," said Pete, hesitatingly, "you know how it is
yourselves. I took a nip before I turned in. Old bones have to be
warmed somehow."

"Exactly," said the prisoners' attorney. "Now, McCloskey, tell the
court if you were not in a condition to see things on the night in
question."

"No, sir, Mr. Berwick, I was as sober as a judge when I woke up and
saw those green things staring at me."

"Are you sure, Peter, that you didn't dream all this?" inquired
Berwick.

"I didn't dream this, sir," replied Peter, showing a bruise on his
leg.

This was quite unanswerable, and old Pete was allowed to go with the
honors of war, and he was followed on the stand by the Irish lad, who
was a willing witness and had many remarkable things to tell about