A growl of suspicion rewarded his efforts.
"They took pretty good care to get out of the way, and leave Mr. Funk and you to bear the brunt of any breach of neutrality that these conspirators might let you in for."
The sailors began to whisper to one another, and were evidently uneasy.
"Then look at the captain's parting words!" cried the journalist. "'Go out into the Solent,' says he, 'and the _Bishop_ will give you your sailing orders,' Sailing orders, indeed! What would a parson know about sailing a vessel of this sort?"
One of the men nudged another at this, and he of the gruff voice gave it as his opinion that "there was summat in it."
"I'll tell you what the sailing orders will be," shouted Marchmont. "They'll take you round the Needles, and alongside of a Spanish cruiser. And when you get ashore, you'll all be clapped into prison for helping the Dons."
"Let's take 'em back now," came a chorus of voices.
"And let 'em go scot-free?" demanded Marchmont.
"Well, what would _you_ do?" asked the spokesman.
"I?" said the journalist. "I'd hand 'em over to the first American ship we sight, and send 'em to New York. That takes the burden off _your_ shoulders. My man has promised you ten shillings apiece. Put 'em on board a Yankee ship, and I'll make it a pound." And he brought up a handful of gold from his pocket, and jingled it in their faces.
It has been said that money talks, and it undoubtedly did so in this case. Marchmont's specious arguments sounded plausible enough, and the mate, who was a thoroughly bad lot and had plenty of the journalist's money in his pocket, backed him up in every particular. So the crew, after a little discussion, accepted the proposition to a man, and the fact that the Bishop chose this unfortunate time to make an attack on the cabin door probably helped to decide them.
"You see," cried the journalist, as it rattled on its hinges, "they're trying to break out now, and are probably armed to the teeth."
"We're with you, mates. The Yankees shall have 'em!" shouted the crowd.
"Good!" he replied. "I'll see if I can induce them to surrender quietly." And going to the cabin door, he unlocked it and entered, closing it behind him.
"Who has dared to lock us in in this unwarrantable manner?" spluttered the Bishop, as the door opened. Then, seeing who it was, he fell back a step, exclaiming: