Spencer said nothing.

"Is there any word you would like to offer in your own defense"?

Spencer shook his head.

Alexander said, "Answer me properly, Spencer".

Spencer was quiet for a moment longer, then he said, "There is nothing I want to say, Captain".

"Very well".
Alexander walked away.
Naval procedure, he thought, had its moments of grim humor.
Philip Spencer had cold-bloodedly planned the murder of his captain, yet it seemed in order to chide him for a lapse of proper address.

During the morning hours, it became clear that the arrest of Spencer was having no sobering effect upon the men of the Somers.
Those named in the Greek paper were manufacturing reasons to steal aft under pretence of some call of duty, so as to be near Spencer, watching an opportunity to communicate with him.
Hostile glances were flashed at both Alexander and Gansevoort.
The two met in the Captain's cabin.

"What is the next step, Captain"?

"More arrests, I fear".

In your opinion, who is this E. Andrews on the 'certain' list"?

"Cromwell, of course.
He is the oldest and most experienced of the lot.
He saw the dangers, not the glories of being identified as a mutineer.
Somehow he talked Spencer into letting him use another name".

There was a tap at the door and Oliver entered with the word that Heiser wished to see the Captain.

"Have him come in".

Heiser, breathless and wild-eyed, brought the chilling news that the handspikes, heavers and holystones had been mysteriously removed from their customary places.

"And also, sir, two articles which were considered souvenirs now must be regarded in another light entirely.
An African knife and battle-ax are at this moment being sharpened by McKinley and Green.
McKinley was overheard to say that he would like to get the knife into Spencer's possession and that" --

"Where did you gather all this information, Heiser?
Who reported to you the disappearance of handspikes and heavers and who" --

He was interrupted by a crash from the deck and sprang toward the ladder, with Gansevoort and Heiser behind him.
A glance revealed that the main topgallant mast had been carried away.
The aimless milling about of what had been a well-trained, well-organized crew struck Alexander with horror.
He bellowed orders and watched the alert response of some of his men and watched, too, the way a dozen or more turned their heads questioningly toward the shackled figure as though for further instruction.

Adrien Deslonde hastened to Alexander's side.
"Small violently jerked the weather-royal brace with full intention to carry away the mast.
I saw him myself and it was done after consultation with Cromwell.
I swear it, sir".

And it was clear that Adrien was not mistaken, for both Small and Cromwell took no step toward aiding in the sending up of the new topgallant mast till Philip Spencer had given the signal to obey.
Then, with disappointment evident upon their faces, they moved to the work.
Alexander guessed that they had planned confusion and turmoil, thinking it the ideal climate in which to begin battle and bloodshed.
Their strategy was sound enough and, he reasoned, had been defeated only by Philip Spencer's unwillingness to sanction an idea he had not originated.

When the mast was raised, Alexander gave the order for Small and Cromwell to be placed under arrest, and now three figures in irons sprawled upon the open deck and terror stalked the Somers.

Spencer's potential followers were openly sullen and morose, missing muster without excuse, expressing in ominous tones their displeasure at the prisoners being kept in irons, communicating with the three by glance and signal.
One of the missing handspikes came out of its hiding place after Midshipman Tillotson had been insolently disobeyed by Seaman Wilson.
Tillotson had reported the man to Gansevoort and an hour later, with back turned, had been attacked by Wilson, brandishing the weapon.
Wilson, shackled and snarling, was thrown with the other prisoners and was soon joined by Green, McKee and McKinley.
Not a man on the brig, loyal or villainous, could be unaffected by the sight of seven men involved in the crime of mutiny.

In the tiny cabin, Alexander met with Gansevoort, Heiser and Wales to speak and to listen.
Three days had passed since Spencer's arrest and each day had brought new dangers, new fears.

Gansevoort said, "It requires an omniscient eye to select those if any on whom we can now rely.
To have the Greek paper is not the great help that at first flush it seemed.
From actions aboard, it is easy to guess that Spencer's boast of twenty staunch followers was a modest estimate".

"Well", Heiser ventured, "why don't we hold an investigation with questioning and" --

"That would be worse than useless", Alexander broke in.
"There is not space to hold or force to guard any increased number of prisoners.
Besides, suppose we hold a court of inquiry, then what?
Then we have informed a large number of our crew that when they reach the United States, they will be punished but that in the meanwhile, they may run loose and are expected to perform their jobs in good order.
Mr. Heiser, does this sound like a truly workable plan to you?
Do you not think these men might choose the black flag here and now"?

Wales said, "Of course they would.
They are about to do so at any moment as it is.
All that is needed is for one man to feel self-confident enough to take the lead.
As soon as that one man is appointed by himself or the others or by a signal from Spencer, we are going to be rushed.
We are going to be rushed and murdered".

"That is extravagant language, Mr. Wales.
We are not going to be rushed and murdered", Alexander said.
"We are going to bring the Somers into New York harbor safe and sound".

"Of course, I agree with the Captain", Gansevoort said thoughtfully, "but the conspiracy is ferocious and desperate.
The instinct of discipline has been lost.
Anything is possible when anarchy has the upper hand".
He paused, then added, "Everything on a ship is a weapon.
Implements of wood and iron are available for close and hasty combat no matter where a man stands.
And we are positive of so few and suspicious of so many".

"We ourselves must stand sentinel".
Alexander said.
"Under arms day and night, watch and watch about.
Those of us present, the Perry brothers, Deslonde and the other midshipmen now have the responsibility of the Somers.
A great deal of labor we have as well, for we are too uncertain of where trust may be placed".

And when he was alone again in the cabin, Alexander lowered his head into his arms and wept, for he knew full well what must be done, what in the end would be done.
With all his heart he had loved the Navy and now he must act in accordance with the Navy's implacable laws.
And when he did, when he gave to his ship that protection necessary to preserve her honor, he knew he would lose forever the Navy to which he had dedicated his soul.

Where had he failed?
How had he failed?
He who had tried so hard, who had yearned so passionately to be a great officer.
It came to him as he wept there aboard the Somers that it was as foolish to strive for greatness as to seek to storm the gates of heaven.
It was given or it was not given.
One did one's best and if fortune smiled, there was a reward.
One did one's best and if fortune frowned, an eighteen-year-old boy with murder in his heart sailed aboard one's ship.
And Alexander sobbed like a girl for the dreams he had had, and he felt no shame.
God knew his tears were his to shed if he so desired, for it had not been with an egotist's rage for fame that he had held precious his naval career.
Another field had given him fame enough to satisfy any egotist.
It was for love that he had served the Navy.
To have someday that love returned was what he had lived for.
Now the hope was gone.
Yes, he would bring the Somers safely into New York harbor but at a price.
Dear God, at what a price.

And after a while, he dried his tears and walked the deck as a captain should with assurance and dignity.
Stern-faced, he inspected the prisoners, satisfying himself that they were clean, well fed and comfortable within reason.
The prisoners averted their eyes but not before he had glimpsed hatred and anger.
Only Cromwell, the giant boatswain, was mild-mannered and respectful.

He said, "Captain, may I speak, please?
Captain, I am innocent of any plot against you or the ship".

"Are you, Cromwell"?

"Yes, sir.
Before God I swear I am innocent.
I know nothing of any plot, if there is such a thing".

"You are the only man aboard who can be in doubt".

"I cannot speak for others, sir, but I am innocent".
He leaned closer to Alexander, squinting up at him from the deck.
"Surely, Captain, you did not find my name on any suspicious paper or anything".

"No, Cromwell, I did not find your name.
You were careful about that".

Now Spencer, seeming with effort to shake himself from lethargy, spoke.
He said, "Cromwell is telling you the truth.
He is innocent".

Alexander shifted his gaze to Spencer.
The calmness and detachment of his tone suggested unawareness of how implicit was his own guilt in the words he had used to defend Cromwell.
Alexander knew Spencer too well to think him naive or thick-skulled.
And in a sudden wave of painful clarity, Alexander recognized a kinship with Spencer.
Here was another human who understood the stupidity of quarreling with the inevitable.
There was good fortune and there was bad and Philip Spencer, in handcuffs and ankle irons, knew it to be a truth.
He expected nothing for himself but that which naturally follows those marked for misfortune.
The red-haired captain, towering above the prisoner as a symbol of decency and authority, was shocked to find himself looking with sympathy upon Philip Spencer.
This tragic lad had forged his own shackles.
But he could not have done so, could not have found the way, had fortune favored him.
And because fortune had favored neither the prisoner nor the red-haired captain, they would be each other's undoing.

"Spencer, if there is guilt, if you do not deny your own, how is it possible for Cromwell to be innocent?
He was your constant companion".

The hazel eyes met Alexander's.
"I tell you he is innocent".

"And do you think there is a reason why I should accept your word"?

"Yes.
I have nothing to gain by defending Cromwell".

"Nothing to lose, either, Spencer".

"That's true", Spencer agreed and withdrew himself from the conversation.
His eyes went back to contemplation of the sea.

"I am innocent, Captain", Cromwell said again.
"Before God, Captain, I am innocent".

And though it was logical that a man who could plot mass murder would not hesitate to speak an untruth, still it was difficult to understand why Spencer spoke only for Cromwell.
The boatswain was as guilty as any.
No action of his could be interpreted in his favor and four midshipmen, prior to their knowing the significance of the Greek paper, had seen it in Cromwell's hands while Spencer whispered explanations.

"I thought", Midshipman Rogers had told Alexander, "that Spencer was teaching him geometry".

It was fantastic to turn from the seven men in shackles to the wardroom, where a class of apprentices awaited him.
This was a training ship and the training would continue, but there was an element of frightful absurdity here which Alexander recognized.
Some of these apprentices were, in physical strength, already men and doubtless a percentage of them were Spencer's followers.