"Mr Frewen, Mr Preddle, my sister has hot coffee ready, and will be glad if you can go at once."

I saw Mr Frewen give quite a start, and Mr Preddle regularly jumped, but they were both so surprised that they could neither of them speak, while Mr Denning turned to Bob Hampton.

"Your turn must be when they come back," he said.

"Oh, all right, sir, I can wait," growled Bob—I mean roared—for though there was a momentary cessation in the shrieking of the wind, he spoke as if Mr Denning were by the wheel; and there was no doubt now—we could not see it, nor were we likely to, through the mist and spray, but the sun was rising, and ten minutes after I was gazing at the sea, which was churned up into one chaos of foam.

"It's all over!" yelled Bob, a minute or two later.

"What's all over?" I asked.

"The hurry-cane, sir. We're most through it, and the wind's beginning to drop."

"But it's blowing terribly," I cried.

"Ay, sir, it is; but 'nour ago it was blowing ten times as terrible. Why, there was a time when it most shaved my head, and another time when I put my hands up to feel if my ears was cut off. Strikes me as they would ha' gone if they hadn't been tied down with the flaps of this here sou'-wester."

"Yes, it's getting lighter fast," cried Mr Denning. "But how rough the sea is!"

"Ay, sir, she be a bit tossy like," said Bob; "but this here's nothing to what it is on a rocky coast. Ah, that's bad if you like."

"But we've had an awful night, Bob."

"Tidy, sir, tidy. Not so bad as it might ha' been."

"Oh, it couldn't have been worse!" I cried.

"What? Not been worse, sir? Why, where's your mainmas' gone by the board, and your fore-mast cut off at the top-mast-head, and your mizzen splintered into matchwood? Why, my lad, this arn't been nothing. And look yonder, there's the sun a-coming out, leastwise it's making the clouds look red-like. We're coming out of it well. Why, you ought to be proud, Mr Dale, o' belonging to such a ship as the Burgh Castle. She's a clipper, if ever there was one built."

"I am proud of her, Bob," I said, "but I'm not proud of her crew."

"Well, no, sir," said Bob, rubbing his red nose, which looked wet and shiny now; "they arn't turned out a werry good lot, but then arter all they might ha' been worse. You see it's just like having so much soup as the cook's made for you, and all as good as can be, till the cook's mate tilts the lamp aside by a-hitting it with his head, and a drop o' hyle goes into the soup. That one drop o' train-hyle spyles all the pot. See what I mean?"

"That Jarette is the drop of oil?"

"That's it, sir, and a werry, werry rancid drop he be."

Mr Denning laughed, and I saw him turn his back to the direction in which Mr Frewen had gone.

"Tlat!" went Bob Hampton's lips in a loud smack. "Glad when they gents come back, for I want some o' your young lady's hot coffee, bless her! to take the taste o' the hyle out o' my mouth."

"You shall have it soon, Hampton, my good brave fellow," cried Mr Denning, and I saw the weak tears in his eyes, "and you tell my sister that she is to find my little silver flask, and give you some brandy in your coffee."

"Thankye, sir, thankye, that's very good of you. Why, Mr Dale, sir, you talk of our having a bad night. Tchah!—nothing, lad, nothing. How could it be a werry bad 'un when you have the luck to be shipped aboard a craft with a angel aboard? A angel, that's what I says, and Neb Dumlow and Barney says the same. We all said it arter the mutiny had begun, and that if we didn't get the best of old Frenchy somehow we'd eat our heads.—Lie down, will yer?" he roared, as he gave the side of the hatch so fierce a kick that I thought his heavy boot would have gone through.

There was a heavy rustling sound, and the grumbling of voices plainly heard now, for the wind was rapidly falling.

"That was French Jarette a-listening, sir, for a penny-piece," whispered Bob, for it was growing possible to whisper now. "Strikes me we arn't done with him yet, and if I might adwise, I should say as Mr Frewen ought to be sent down below with some of his doctor's stuff to pyson that chap like you would a rat, for there'll never be no peace while he's aboard. Hah!" he continued, smacking his lips. "There's your sort; here's Mr Preddle coming back with his face shining and smelling o' hot coffee like a flower-garding."

Mr Denning turned round sharply, but checked himself as he saw that Mr Frewen was coming too.

"Looks like my turn now."

"Miss Denning is waiting to give you some coffee, Mr Hampton," said the naturalist.

"Thankye for the mister, sir, and thank her for the coffee," said Bob, smiling, and he straddled off, the sloping of the deck as the ship rose and fell and heeled over being apparently of no consequence to him.



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

A few minutes later Mr Brymer joined us, rubbing his hands.

"We shall almost have a calm in an hour, gentlemen," he said, "and smooth water, with nothing but a long heavy swell before night. I think we may all congratulate ourselves upon what we have done, for we've saved the ship."

"Not yet," said Mr Frewen, pointing at the fore-castle-hatch.

"No, not yet, doctor; but we've only one enemy to deal with now, and can devote all our attention to him. I think I can relieve two of you gentlemen now. Mr Frewen, will you fight out another hour or two, while these gentlemen go and change, and have an hour or two's sleep?"

"I'll go and change," said Mr Denning; "but no sleep to-day."

"Please yourselves, gentlemen; but you must have rest, and be in readiness for a call. Hah! that's grand; what should we do without the sun?"

For as he was speaking, a bright gleam suddenly shot almost level across the spray, which still flew over the waves, and made it flash like a rainbow. It did more, for it sent light and joy into our breasts as Mr Preddle and Mr Denning went aft, meeting Bob Hampton with some boards, a saw, hammer, and nails with which he was soon busily at work strengthening the sides and top of the hatch, nailing down board after board, and only leaving one small opening in case communication should be needed with the prisoners below, who, saving for the light filtering through a small sky-light, and also through the ventilator, were in the dark.

An hour later a sort of council of war was held in the captain's cabin, and it was decided to well nail up the hatch of the cable-tier as well, there being no dread of the men breaking out in other directions on account of the closely-packed-in heavy cargo, much of which consisted, as I said, of machinery—agricultural implements and the like—for the Antipodes. Then arrangements were made as to the men being fed with biscuit and water, just sufficient for keeping them alive, and this starvation policy it was considered would be the means of setting the mutineers thoroughly against their leader, with the probable result that they would open up negotiations, and end by binding Jarette hand and foot and delivering him up. After that, as many as the captain thought could be trusted might be released to assist in navigating the ship, and the rest could be kept in prison.

Mr Brymer was quite right about the weather; we sailed right through the circular storm, and long before sunset of what proved to be a very hot day, the ship was gently gliding up one side of a long wave, and after pausing for a moment on the top, gliding down the other, so that it was hard to imagine that we had just passed through so terrible a storm.

That evening I asked Mr Frewen to take me with him when he went into Mr Preddle's cabin to see Walters, and this resulted in his leaving me behind to sit down by where my brother midshipman lay, looking white, or rather grey as ashes.

I found him very stubbornly silent with the doctor, who did not seem to think him very bad; and to all the sharp appeals to him to try and sit up, or explain his symptoms, he only gave vent to a piteous kind of groan which worried me a good deal, for I could not help thinking that Mr Frewen was hard, and to put it plainly, rather brutal, to one who had evidently gone through a great deal of suffering, and was now completely prostrate.

But certainly it had been rather tantalising, for to everything there was this piteous groan.

"Put out your tongue," said Mr Frewen.

"Oh!"

"Well, open your eyes."

"Oh!"—long drawn out, and strange.

"Surely that does not hurt you, my lad. I want to do you good if I can."

"Oh!"

"Are you in pain?"

"Oh!"

"Does that hurt you?"

"Oh!"

"Can you feel it if I press your chest?"

"Oh!"

"Stand a little on one side, Dale; I want to look at his eyes."

I stepped back, feeling very uncomfortable, and Mr Frewen parted the lad's eyelids gently enough.

"Oh!" came more loudly than ever, as Mr Frewen looked closely into first one and then the other eye.

Another moan and groan came fast one after the other, sometimes loud and sometimes piteous in the extreme, making me shiver again as I imagined all kinds of horrors.

At first Mr Frewen was very gentle in his examination; but as Walters kept on groaning, the doctor seemed to lose patience, and in feeling the patient's ribs, testing his arms and joints, he was, I thought, unnecessarily rough and harsh.

Mr Frewen did not speak out, but kept on uttering little ejaculations; and at last he began to pass his hands over and around Walters' skull, while I shuddered, and fully expected to hear the broken bone-edges grate together from a fracture.

But the doctor let my messmate's head sink down again, quickly too, for Walters uttered a thrilling moan and let his face hang down away from the doctor, looking so ghastly and strange that I was more horrified than ever in the dim cabin-light.

I looked anxiously at the doctor, silently asking him what was the matter; but he only gave me a short nod of the head, and once more directed his attention to Walters, who lay breathing slowly in a catchy, spasmodic fashion, and I was almost about to question Mr Frewen, but he once more bent over the prisoner patient, listening to his breathing.

I saw him frown and then lay his hand upon Walters' side, and then I started, for there came so piteous a groan that I was sure the ribs must have been crushed, and I felt angry with him for not being more sympathetic.

"He went against us and played the blackguard," I thought to myself; "but he has been severely punished, and is down, so it isn't right to jump upon him."

I felt then that I disliked Mr Frewen, who must be a cold-hearted, brutal kind of man, and I was not surprised at Mr Denning the invalid showing so much dislike to him now.

"Yes, he's very bad," said Mr Frewen at last, "I shall have to get ready a mixture for him—something pretty strong too."

I was looking anxiously in his eyes as he said this, and then we both looked at Walters, for the poor fellow winced and moaned again.

"Yes," said Mr Frewen to me, but watching his patient the while; "medicine is as a rule very nasty, and the strong mixtures worst of all; but there are cases where you cannot hesitate to administer them, even if they are distasteful; and where you disguise their taste with syrups and essential oils you often do harm instead of good."

"Do you think he is very bad, Mr Frewen?" I said.

"Oh yes—very," was the reply. "Not dangerous!" I whispered.

"Yes, decidedly dangerous," he said, in the same low tone.

"Then he ought not to be left?"

"Oh yes, better left. He'll come round. There, I'm going to see how the other prisoners are getting on. I'm afraid that I am badly wanted there."

He stood looking down at the patient with his brow knit, and I noticed a fidgety movement about one of his feet.

"Oughtn't I to stop and nurse him?" I asked.

"No; certainly not. He is better alone. This kind of case does not require attention—only time. Come along," and he went to the door.

"All right, Mr Frewen; I'll come directly," I said softly.

"But I want to fasten the door," he whispered.

"I'll fasten it when I come out."

"No, that will not do; Mr Brymer said that the door was to be kept fast, and I can't go away and leave it."

"But I want to talk to him," I whispered. "Lock me in for a bit."

"And suppose he turns savage with you, and tries to get your weapons?" whispered Mr Frewen, with a smile.

"I shan't let him have them," I replied. "Besides, he's weak and ill."

"Humph!—not so very, my lad. There, I'll lock you in, and come and let you out in a quarter of an hour."

He closed and locked the cabin door sharply, and I stood there thinking what I should say to my old messmate, and feeling how awkward it was now he was in trouble. For he lay there half turned away with his eyes closed, and I heard him moan piteously again while I waited to hear Mr Frewen's departing step.

But it did not come for a few moments. Then I heard him go into the adjoining cabin, and the opening of his medicine-chest quite plainly.

"I don't believe he wants medicine," I thought. "He must be suffering from some internal injury." Though as to what part of his body the injury might be in, I had not the slightest idea.

There was a loud clink of bottle or glass, and then quite plainly came the setting down of something hard upon a shelf, the sound coming plainly through the opening we had so laboriously made when Mr Preddle was a prisoner in this cabin, and Mr Frewen and I in the next.

Then I heard a loud cough. There was a squeaking sound of a cork being thrust into a bottle, and the doctor went out of his cabin, shut the door sharply, and went off, while it was like an electric shock through me, and I stared wildly, for Walters started up, and in a vicious angry voice exclaimed—

"Brute! Beast! I only wish—"

He stopped short as he vigorously wrenched himself round.

"I thought you were gone," he said blankly. "He told you to come away."

"I stopped to help you," I said. "I did not like to have you left when you were so bad."

"No, you didn't," he cried, with a vicious snarl. "You stopped to play the miserable, contemptible, cowardly spy. It's just like you, Dale. You always were a beast!"

"If you call me a beast, I'll knock your head off!" I cried, for my temper was rising against him and against myself, for I felt that I had been imposed upon, and horribly weak and stupid in my sympathy for one who was shamming from beginning to end.

"It would take a better man than you," he snarled.

"Not it, though you are bigger and stronger," I cried. "Get up, and I'll show you."

"Get up," he groaned, "while I'm so weak and bad that I can't stir?"

"Can't stir," I said, as I realised how thoroughly the doctor had read him, and I understood now why Mr Frewen was so indifferent instead of being sympathetic. "Why, there's nothing the matter with you at all. You can move as well as I can. Get up, sneak!"

"Oh!" he groaned, "you're as great a brute as the doctor," and he turned up his eyes till only the whites showed, making him look so ghastly in the dim light, that I was ready to fancy I was misjudging him after all.

But I recalled his manner and his utterance as soon as he had made sure that the doctor had gone, and thought himself quite alone.

"Get up," I said again, "and leave off this miserable shamming. There's nothing the matter with you at all."

He groaned again, and it made me feel so angry at the thought of his believing that he could impose upon me again, that I raised my right foot, whose toes seemed to itch with a desire to kick him.

"Get up!" I cried angrily again.

"I can't, I can't!" he groaned.

"Get up," I said, "or I'll lie down by you and punch your head that way!"

"Oh, you coward, you coward!" he moaned.

"No, it's you who are the coward, shamming being injured. Will you get up?"

"What," he snarled, changing his manner again, "to fight with a miserable coward who is armed?"

"I'm not armed now," I cried, snatching the revolver I carried from my belt, and laying it on Mr Preddle's chest. "Get up, you miserable, cowardly, treacherous, shamming impostor! I'll give you some physic which will do you more good than the doctor's."

As I spoke, I gave him a heavy push with my foot.

He sprang from the bunk as if he had been suddenly galvanised, made a rush at me, and struck out with all his force, but I darted on one side, and he struck the bulk-head with his fist.

"Poor fellow, how weak he is!" I said, as I stood on my guard, and writhing now with bodily as well as mental pain, he came at me looking almost diabolical.

I forgot everything the next moment—the nearness of the dangerously wounded captain, and the alarm that would be felt by Miss Denning, and with fists feeling like solid bone I sprang at him in turn. For I was in a strange state of exaltation. My nerves had been stirred by the excitement of the past days. I had been horribly imposed upon, and in place of my pity I now felt something very near akin to hate for my treacherous messmate, whom I had been ready, to forgive everything. I felt as if the most delightful thing in life would be to thrash him till he was in such a condition that he would be obliged to have the doctor to see to him and put him right—if he did not half-kill me instead, for he looked capable of doing it then. But this last did not occur to me, as I made my fists fly at his head, no round-about windmill blows, but straight-out shots right at his face, chest, anywhere I could see a chance to hit, though in the majority of cases I missed him, and received his blows instead.

But these did not seem to hurt, only excite me, and give me strength. They were like spurring to a horse; and as I hit out, my tongue was not idle, for I kept on taunting and gibing at him, asking if that one did not make him groan and this one did not need the doctor, while all the time he was perfectly silent, save that as he glared at me and fought savagely I could hear his teeth grinding together. He fought savagely, and so did I, for to use an old school-boy term, my monkey was up, and I was ready to keep on till I dropped.

Blows fell fast enough on both, and then we closed and wrestled and went down.

Then we were up, and crashing against the bulk-head on one side, then on the other. Then I sent him staggering against the door; and en revanche, as he recovered himself and came on again, he sent me heavily against the ship's side, where the back of my head gave a sounding rap close to the little circular window.

Of course it was a matter of a very few minutes. Boy human nature could not stand a prolongation of such a fierce struggle, even if our muscles were tense as so much elastic wood. And how that time passed I can hardly tell. I was conscious of seeing sparks, and then of Walters' eyes and gleaming teeth which were very hard to my knuckles. So was his head, and the boards, and cabin-floor; but I fought on, and wrestled and went down, and got up again, and the fighting was soon in perfect silence as far as our lips were concerned, till after one desperate round—the last—I struck out so fiercely with my left, adding to it the whole weight of my body, that Walters fell back over the chest in one corner, his head struck the bulk-head with a sounding bang, and he went down in a sitting position, but in an instant sprang up again, grinding his teeth.

The cabin was nearly dark now and my fists were up for the renewal of the contest, for Walters seemed to be about to spring at me; but he drew back, and as quickly as I could grasp what it meant, I heard almost simultaneously the clicking of my pistol-lock, the report, and the crash caused by the sudden wrenching open of the cabin-door.

"Hurt?" cried Mr Brymer, as I staggered back, conscious of a sharp stinging pain at the side of my head; and as he spoke he sprang at Walters, wrested the pistol from him, and threw him down.

"I—I don't know," I stammered as I put my hand to my ear. "Yes, I think so," for my fingers were wet with blood.

"You cowardly, treacherous hound!" cried the mate, with his foot upon Walters' breast.

"I—oh don't!—help!—I was only defending myself from Dale. I'm weak and hurt, and—"

"A cowardly, malingering liar!" cried Mr Frewen, hotly. "He tried to make me believe he was very bad, groaning and wincing, and thinking he had deceived me, but I saw through him all the time."

"No, no, I am bad!" groaned Walters, piteously.

"He isn't," I said, with my anger against him mastering a sensation of sickness. "He was shamming; I found him out, and we quarrelled and fought, and as soon as he was beaten he caught up the pistol and fired at me."

"It's all a lie!" shouted Walters, fiercely. "I was so weak and ill that I—"

"Jumped up well as I was, and called Mr Frewen a brute and a beast as soon as he was out of hearing."

"And the pistol cocked itself, jumped up into his hand, and then went off and wounded Dale. Is it much, doctor?" said Mr Brymer.

"No, only his ear cut, fortunately," said Mr Frewen, holding a handkerchief to my head. "An inch more and our amiable, treacherous young friend would have had to be tried for murder. Who's that?"

"Me," growled Neb Dumlow. "Want help, sir?"

"No. Go and tell the captain there's nothing the matter, and Miss Denning that there's no cause for alarm. Lock up the wild beast, Brymer! I thought he was a little weak and wanted feeding up. Leave him to me, and I'll feed him down."

Mr Brymer gave a sharp look round, and then closed the door and locked it, while following Mr Frewen into the next cabin, he put a few stitches in my injured ear and then strapped it up.

"Feel sick?" he said.

"Pretty well," I said, and I looked dismally at my knuckles.

"Like a light, and a glass to see your face?"

"Eh? No," I cried, as I recalled all that had taken place. "Does it look very bad?"

"Not half so bad as it will to-morrow," said Mr Frewen, coolly. "You had a tidy fight then, you two?"

"Oh yes; don't talk about it, please, sir. He made me feel so wild after I found out that he was only shamming."

"Humph! Well, don't let Miss Denning see you. If you had been knocked about like this in a struggle with those scoundrels under the hatch you would have won her sympathy; but a lad who goes and indulges in fisticuffs till his face looks like a muffin which has tumbled into the slop-basin, can't show himself in ladies' society till he has grown well."

"Oh, I say, Mr Frewen!" I cried.

"It's a fact," he said, laughing at my dismal face.

"But can't you put some stuff on it to make it look better?"

"No, nothing," he said coolly. "I only know of one thing that will help you out of your difficulty," he continued quietly.

"Yes," I said. "What?"

"You must wait till we have another fight with the men forward, and then if you get knocked about, all those bruises will go to the same account."

I was busily bathing my face and hands as he spoke, and then, as I began dabbing myself gently with a towel, there was an alarm from forward which suggested that, though I was getting stiffer and more sore every moment, the time had already come for the doctor's remedy to be put in force, for there was a pistol-shot followed by several more, and a loud shouting which sounded like cries for help.

It was a wonderful change from the previous night as we hurried along the deck to join our friends. The ship rode on an even keel, the night was glorious with stars, and the lanterns shone bright and clear where they were swung. There was no creeping along a few feet at a time, holding on by rope and belaying-pin, with the spray dashing over the side.

We could see the group about the hatch standing a little back, for in spite of our defences, the mutineers were making a desperate effort to escape, and were keeping up a steady fire through the top and sides to cover the work of one of their number, who was chopping away at the door to hack out the fastening.

As we reached them, Mr Brymer was ready revolver in hand, hesitating as to whether he should fire, for he was husbanding his ammunition, the supply being far from abundant.

"It's getting warm, doctor," he said as we came up. "What is to be done? I grudge wasting cartridges."

Just then Bob Hampton, who had been right aft, came trotting up.

"Who is at the wheel?" said Mr Brymer, sharply.

"Blane, sir."

"That will do. Look here, Hampton, the captain saw to the receiving of the powder and cartridges while I was busy over the other portions of the cargo, and he is too weak to be questioned. You joined the mutiny for a time."

"Never, sir, for no time," growled Bob.

"Well, you were with the men, and in their confidence."

"Not a bit on it, sir, arksing your pardon. Frenchy never trusted me a mite; only got all the work out of me that he could."

"Well, well, we will not argue little points," said Mr Brymer, impatiently, as the chopping and firing went on. "You saw a great deal of what was going on."

"Yes, sir, heaps; I kep' my eyes open."

"Well, tell me this—what about the powder and weapons? What do you know about them?"

"I'll tell you, sir," said Bob; "but, begging your pardon, hadn't you better clap a stopper on this here game?"

"How, man?"

"Answering them shots, sir."

"I would, but my cartridges are nearly all gone. How did you get these?"

"Outer the hold, sir, where they stowed 'em close alongside o' the blasting-powder. There's plenty more."

"Can you get them?"

"Oh yes, sir. You see, before the mutiny began, Jarette set some one, as I heard afterward, to smuggle all the cartridges and weapons he could out of the cabins and from the captain's locker."

"Yes, we found out that had been done. Who did they send?"

Bob Hampton chuckled.

"Why, you know, sir."

"Not Mr Walters?"

"If you was to spend all the rest o' your life, sir, making shots at it, you wouldn't never get nigher than that."

"The young scoundrel! Then you know where the cartridges are?"

"Course I do, sir: under the battened down hatches yonder. Frenchy put 'em there himself, and wouldn't let no one go nigh 'em, 'cause the fellows were always smoking. I got down to 'em at night when the storm was coming, as you know, and when you want more, there they are,—yer pistols and guns too."

"Oh, that puts quite a different complexion upon our position, Mr Denning. We can fire as much as we like," cried the mate. "But one word more, Hampton. What about the mutineers? Have they a very large supply of ammunition?"

"Well, sir, that I can't say. I know Jarette always kep' his pockets jam-full, but I don't know nothing about the others."

The chopping was still going on while this discussion took place, and shot after shot was fired, evidently in a blind fashion, as if the man who used the revolver was unable to take an aim at any one, and merely fired to keep us away from the hatch; but now all at once we were startled by a sharp jingling of glass, and the violent swinging of one of the lanterns, which had been struck by a bullet.

"That was the result of some one aiming," cried Mr Denning, sharply.

"If they don't do any more damage than that it won't matter," said Mr Preddle.

"Look here, Brymer," whispered Mr Frewen, speaking now after carefully watching the dimly-seen hatch for some minutes, "it strikes me that if you let them go on firing for a little longer they will be forced to surrender."

"For want of ammunition?" said the mate.

"No; for want of air. That ventilator will not carry off the foul gas from the firing."

"But the holes they are making will," said the mate. "If it were not so dark you would see that the smoke is curling out from several little holes."

Mr Frewen took a step forward; there was a sharp report, and he staggered back. "Flit?" cried Mr Preddle, excitedly. "Yes, but not hurt," replied Mr Frewen. "The bullet struck my collar, and it was like something giving me a violent jerk."

"Change positions every one," said Mr Brymer in a low voice. "Hampton, the lanterns. Let them both down, and put them in the galley."

Bob Hampton ran to one line by which they were hoisted up, I to the other; and as I was lowering mine down, I heard a shot, and a whizz like a bee flying over my head.

"Quite time that was done," said the mate, as the two lighted lanterns were taken by Bob and carried to the galley. But the door was fast, and it was not until after a good deal of dragging and wrenching that it was pulled open, I holding the two lights, while Bob tugged.

Bang! went a revolver again, and a shot whizzed by my companion's ear, and stuck into the side of the galley.

"Look sharp, Hampton; they can see you, man!" cried Mr Brymer. "Throw something over the lights."

"Done it, sir," cried Bob, as the door yielded, and I stepped forward to get the lanterns in, when, as Bob opened the door widely, and the light flashed in, he uttered a yell, and nearly dropped the lanterns, for there before us in the corner of the galley stood, or lay back, a ghastly-looking figure which at first sight seemed to me like the body of one of the mutineers who had been shot. But as I stood trembling and holding up one light, the white face moved and the eyes blinked.

"What's the matter?" cried Mr Brymer, loudly. "Go and see, Mr Frewen."

The doctor took a few steps and joined us, saw the figure, and said sharply—"Another prisoner?"

"No, sir; can't he; 'cause he's fastened hisself in," replied Bob. "Why, matey, what are you doing here? I thought you was a ghost."

"Why, it's the cook!" I exclaimed.

"Cooky it is, sir," said Hampton. "Here y'are, mate; we've brought you a light."

The lanterns were thrust in, the door shut, and we hurried back, discussing our discovery, but this was checked by the firing from the hatch, while the blows from an axe threatened to make short work of the door and the boards that had been nailed across.

"What's to be done?" said Mr Preddle, mildly. "Hadn't you better speak to them, Mr Brymer?"

"I feel as if I can only speak by deputy," he replied, and he raised his pistol,—"by this. But I don't like firing until the last extremity."

"I'll speak to them," said Mr Frewen.

"Very well; but get well out of reach. They will not be so merciful as we are."

Mr Frewen went round to the bow-side of the hatch, and shouted loudly to those in the forecastle, with the result that the chopping ceased, and after a few moments' delay Jarette's voice was heard.

"You surrender then, eh?" he shouted. "Look sharp and knock off these boards."

Mr Brymer could not help laughing aloud, and a pistol was fired in his direction.

"Stop that!" shouted Mr Frewen. "Look here, my men, if you hand out your weapons through the top of the hatch, and promise not to attempt to escape, food and water shall be passed down, and you shall receive fair treatment till we get into port."

"Do you hear, my lads?" cried Jarette, loudly. "And when we get in port they'll hand us over as prisoners. What do you—there, I'll say it for you," he continued hastily. "No, no, no! And now listen to me, all you who can hear. You can't sail into port without us, and you are only proposing a truce because you are growing frightened."

"Indeed!" said Mr Frewen, coolly.

"Yes, indeed, doctor. I know your voice. Now you take my advice—you and those two passengers. Get back to your cabins, and perhaps I'll forgive you. We can come on deck now whenever we like, and we're masters here. If you don't do as I say, look out, for I warn you I can cover all of you with my pistol, and if I couldn't I'd sink the ship before you should hold her again."

"Then you refuse to surrender?" cried Mr Frewen. "Harkye, my lads, below there; don't let this madman lead you on to your ruin. Will you surrender?"

"Silence below there!" shouted Jarette. "I'll give him his answer. There!"

He fired, evidently aiming in the direction of Mr Frewen's voice, for the bullet whizzed over the doctor's head; when, without waiting for orders, Mr Preddle fired back, and his shot was followed by a sharp ejaculation, suggesting that some one had been hit; but directly after we heard a little talking, and several shots were fired at us, but without effect.

"There," said Mr Brymer, "we have done our duty by them, we must now do it by ourselves."

"If we could only master that one man," said Mr Frewen in the little council of war which followed, "we could manage."

"Hadn't you better order the hose to be laid on, Mr Brymer, sir," said Bob Hampton, "and drown 'em out like rats?"

"It would be punishing the weak with the guilty and strong, my lad," said Mr Brymer. "I am loth to proceed to extremities."

"Werry well then, sir, smoke 'em out as you would rats. I dessay the doctor has got some brimstone."

"Yes, I have, Hampton," said Mr Frewen; "but, you see, these are men, not rats."

"That's a true word, sir."

"You would not like to kill them all in cold blood, my man?"

"No, sir, that's a butchery sort o' way; but I'm ready to give 'em a wopses' nest squib to bring 'em to their senses."

"Out of their senses, man!" cried Mr Frewen, impatiently. "It means death, I tell you—wholesale murder. The men, I repeat, are not rats."

"Well, sir, they're behaving like 'em, and there's no gammon about it now. They're desprit; Jarette's worked 'em up; and they've got the judge to face if we take 'em into port. Strikes me it's our lives or theirn; but you knows best. I was thinking about the young lady."

Just then the chopping began again, and Mr Brymer raised his pistol and fired.

The chopping ceased, and there was a burst of loud talking. Then all was still for hours, while a careful watch was kept until morning.



CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

The discovery of the cook made a great difference in the state of affairs. It was found that he had been forced by Jarette's threats to work for the mutineers, and if they had gained the upper hand he would no doubt have sided with them again; but now he seemed to return gladly to his regular duties, and he was as energetic as possible in preparing breakfast, waiting on Miss Denning and her brother, and when he was not cooking, making himself generally useful, as the advertisements say, about the cabins, especially that of the captain, to whom, unasked, he began to act as nurse.

That morning, by Mr Brymer's orders, he filled a number of bottles with fresh water, and got ready a quantity of biscuits, which he was told to bear to the mutineers.

"But I dursen't, sir," he said. "That Jarette would swear I was a traitor as soon as he heard my voice, and shoot me same as he did poor Phipps."

"What! the steward?" cried Mr Frewen.

"Yes, sir, dead, on the night they rose."

"You rose," said Mr Brymer.

"No, sir, I didn't; I'm only a cook, and not a fighting man. One does lots of things when a pistol's held to your head as you wouldn't do other times."

"Bring the biscuit and water," said Mr Frewen, "and I'll speak to the men. They will not use pistols when they know food is going to be given to them."

The cook shook his head.

"You don't know Jarette, sir," he said.

"I'll go with you and help you," I cried, for I fully believed Mr Frewen's words, which proved quite correct, till we had passed down all that we had taken, the men eagerly thrusting up their hands and seizing bottle and biscuit.

Then as the last bottle of water was handed through the opening Bob Hampton had left when he nailed the boards over, Jarette shouted—

"That isn't all, is it?"

"Yes," I said, "that's all you'll get;" and fortunately I started away and fell back in my fright, for quick as lightning the scoundrel thrust out a pistol and fired at me, the flash being so close that I felt sure for the moment that I was hit. In fact I was stunned, but it was from the sharp rap which I gave the back of my head on the deck.

"Hurt?" cried Mr Frewen, running to my help, as I sat up rubbing the back of my head.

"Hurt? Yes, of course I am," I cried, angrily; but I laughed it off the next minute, for I was afraid that they would think it cowardly of me for shrinking away.

"I'm afraid it will be some time before they get any more refreshments," said Mr Preddle, laughing; and now by Mr Brymer's orders a tarpaulin was drawn over the top of the hatch, but it had not been there a minute before a knife-blade was passed through it, and a good-sized piece cut out.

Then a board was thrown on, but it was only tossed away, and shot after shot was fired, evidently, from the good aim taken, by some one who could see the people on deck.

Nothing more was done then, for the mutineers made no further attempt to escape; and in wonderful contrast to what we had gone through, it now fell perfectly calm, with the sun blazing down upon us and the heat intense.

Short-handed though we were, matters fell back into the old ship routine, with the exception that the watches kept were against something more serious than the weather.

The captain seemed better; and though they were not friendly, there was, it appeared to me, a certain amount of polite intercourse kept up between Mr Frewen and the Dennings, though Mr Denning always appeared to be rather cold and strange during the short time they were together at meals. These the cook served up regularly for the officers, passengers, and men, the two who were at the wheel having settled down in their places with Hampton and his two companions, and had even gone so far as to offer to fight upon our side.

They sent the message by Bob Hampton, and he bore it to Mr Brymer, but said to me afterwards with a good deal of screwing up of his honest wrinkled countenance—

"Mr Brymer can do as he likes, of course, Mr Dale, but I should just trust them two chaps as far as I could see 'em."

"They'll be all right while we have the upper hand, Bob," I said, "and go against us if Jarette beats us."

"That's it, sir. You're as right as you can get. I'm friendly with 'em, of course; but I've got my eyes open, and they don't go nigh that hatch while I'm on deck."

"Do you think we can trust the cook, Bob?" I said in a low voice, for we were not far from the galley, which was smoking away as methodically as if there were no such thing as a mutiny on board.

Bob gave me a very slow wink.

"Suet," he said in a whisper.

"What?"

"Suet, sir. That's 'bout what he's made on. Sort of soft fat man. There's no harm in him, only softness. Think of a fellow being so scared that he goes and shuts hisself up and drinks hisself into a state o' muddle so as not to know what's going on. Why, if one's got to be drowned, one wants to make a bit of a fight for it. Never say die, my lad. Life in a mussel, you know. Oh, there's no harm in old bile-the-pot, only I shouldn't like to depend on him in a row, though he could do us a lot o' good."

"How?" I said, laughing, as I thought of Bob's low estimate of his fighting powers.

"Lot of ways, my lad. Cook's got a good many advantages, you see. Red-hot pokers is one; pots and kettles o' boiling water's another, without counting the long sharp knives; but he won't do nothing, and I must. Don't walk too near the wild beasts' cage, my lad, I'm going aft."

He went steadily aft to mount the poop-deck, while being near the galley I strolled towards it to have a few words with the man of suet, and as he welcomed me with a simple placid smile, I felt that Bob Hampton's estimate of his character was pretty correct, and that it would be bad policy to trust much to him in a time of peril.

"Well," I said, "been to the captain?"

"Yes, Mr Dale, sir, and have taken him a beautiful basin of broth. Let me give you one."

"No, not now," I said, though I felt tempted to say yes. "Did you take Mr Walters his provisions?"

"I did, sir, with Mr Brymer looking on all the time."

"Does he seem very bad?"

"Well, sir, he pulled a long face, but I don't think there's much the matter with him. He can eat readily enough."

"I say, cook," I half whispered, "you were a good deal on deck?"

"No, sir, not much, I was busy here. The crew ate a deal."

"But you knew about Mr Walters being shut up in the cable-tier?"

The cook glanced uneasily toward the forecastle-hatch and shook his head.

"They can't hear you," I said, "and even if they could they can't get at you."

"I don't know, sir," he whispered; "that Jarette's got ears such as no man before ever had. I've often thought it isn't hearing he has, but a kind of knowing."

"Oh, he's knowing enough!" I said, laughing.

"I don't mean that, Mr Dale," he whispered. "I mean there's something uncanny about him, as the Scotch people say, and he can tell what you are thinking about without your saying it."

"Oh, nonsense!"

"It arn't nonsense, sir, and there's more about him than you think for. Why, he can do anything with the men. They're not only afraid of him, but they're obliged to do what he wants, and if I was Mr Brymer, sir, I shouldn't rest till he was put in a boat and sent off to shift for himself."

"You think he's dangerous then?"

"Ah, that he is, sir; and if he isn't hatching out something row to surprise you all, I don't know mutton from beef."

I looked sharply at the cook, for his words chimed in with a kind of fancy I had that the people in the forecastle were not so silent for nothing.

"Ah, well," I said, "I dare say we shall be ready for him if he does try to play any pranks. But you didn't tell me about Mr Walters."

The cook gave a sharp glance round.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"I don't seem to like to talk about him, sir," he whispered. "He never forgets anything, and never forgives anybody. I wouldn't say a word against him for worlds."

"I don't ask you to," I said; "I only asked you why Mr Walters was shut up in the cable-tier?"

"Jarette don't like him, sir. He found him very useful for stealing pistols and cartridges, and fastening people in the cabins, but once he got all he wanted, though he made a fuss with him and encouraged him to strut about, and called him his lieutenant, he used to be always looking at him ugly-like, and I got to think that before long there would be a row."

"And there was?"

"Oh yes, sir, a terrible row. You see Mr Walters couldn't forget that he had been an officer, and Jarette couldn't forget he had been a fore-mast man, and feel jealous of Mr Walters, who used to make-believe amongst the men that he was the real captain of the ship, and that everything depended upon him. So at last there was a terrible row about something in the navigation, and Mr Walters told Jarette that he didn't know anything about it. Then the Frenchman hit him, kind of boxed his ears, and Mr Walters whips out a pistol. That was enough. Jarette whistled up the men, who none of 'em liked Mr Walters, and before he knew where he was, they had him on his back with his pistol gone and him helpless. He made a bit of a fuss, and threatened to have Jarette punished if he did not give it up, and then the skipper pointed the pistol at him, and told the men who were holding Mr Walters down to hang back as far as they could while he shot the prisoner. That was enough. The poor boy began to holloa out and beg for mercy, and Jarette set to and teased him, sir, horribly.

"'Oh, very well,' he says, 'you don't want to be shot?'

"'No, no!' cries Mr Walters, crying now like a little child.

"'Well, then, sir,' says Jarette, 'I'll try and oblige you.'

"Mr Walters lay watching him with his eyes rolling, but they wouldn't let him turn his head, while Jarette whispered something to some of the men, who went forward, and I saw them stoop down, but I didn't know what they were doing there even when they came back, and at a word four of them seized him, taking hold of his ankles and wrists.

"'What are you going to do?' cried Mr Walters, who looked white, sir, as so much dough.

"'What you wanted,' says Jarette. 'You didn't want to be shot, so I thought I'd humour you, and have you pitched overboard.'

"Then Mr Walters begins to howl for mercy, but Jarette shakes his head.

"'Off with him!' he cried; and in spite of the poor fellow's kicks and struggles, they trotted with him right forward and close up to the bows. Then I shut my eyes, for I thought it was all over, and I put my head a little farther out of the door-way here to listen for the splash. But there came a shriek and a loud slap down of a lid, and then I opened my eyes and saw the men all laughing, and found what they had done. For they had given the poor fellow a few swings to make him believe he was going over, and then all at once took a few steps and shot him down feet first into the cable-tier, shutting the lid over him directly after."

"The cowardly brute, to torture any one like that!" I said to myself, as I went aft and into the saloon, stopping for a few moments by Walters' prison, and feeling sorry for him till I passed my hand over my face.

That night passed quietly enough, and a soft breeze rose to send us gently through the water, Mr Brymer giving his instructions to the men at the wheel as to the course they were to steer, though I had not the least notion where we were bound for now.

A strict watch was kept, of course, and there was a slight alarm once, but it passed off; and the sun rose again, with the wind dropping, and leaving us once more rocking gently upon the smooth ocean.

We were all in better spirits though, thanks to the cook and the few hours of rest every one had managed to snatch. Mr Frewen gave us the news, too, that the captain was decidedly better, and that Miss Denning was nursing him constantly.

This was a bit of relief to me, for it kept Miss Denning in the cabin, and I was determined not to let her see my face till I looked different.

About an hour later, first one and then another crawled along the deck very silently to try and make out what was going on in the forecastle.

I did not go, neither did Mr Frewen or Mr Preddle. Mr Denning was in the captain's cabin resting; but all came back with the same story, one which relieved me, for I was startled, thinking that the party were all smothered by being shut down in the cabin place in such hot weather.

Dumlow, Blane, and Bob Hampton all said that the men were sleeping, and that they thought they had been at the drink.

Mr Brymer crept close up in his turn, listened for some time, and confirmed the men's statement.

"Getting ready for a fresh attack," he said. "I'll have a talk to the captain as to what is to be done."

He placed another trusty man on duty, ready to give the alarm if the mutineers woke and tried to break out, and then proposed that we should all go into the captain's cabin and have a council of war once more.

"Think he can bear it, Frewen?" he said.

"Oh yes, if we do not stay too long. It will rouse him up and do him good mentally, to feel that he has some interest in the management of the ship."

"Then come along," said the mate. "But where is Mr Preddle?"

"Gone to look after his fish," I said; for he was always snatching every opportunity to go and see how the salmon and trout fry were getting on.

"Go and fetch him, Dale."

I had to pass Mr Frewen on my way, and I seized the opportunity to whisper to him—

"I shall hang back till you come to the door, and signal to me that Miss Denning has gone. She mustn't see me like this."

He smiled, and I went forward to where Mr Preddle was making himself very hot by using the bellows to aerate the water.

"Yes—yes, of course," he said. "I'll come." And hastily putting on the light flannel jacket he had removed, he followed me toward the saloon.

"They will not make a rush and get out while we are away, will they?" he said, with an uneasy look over his shoulder.

"They are well watched," I replied, "and we shall not be very long."

"Ah! It would be very dreadful if they did, Dale. Have they been fed this morning?"

"Why, you talk as if they were wild beasts in a cage, Mr Preddle," I said merrily.

"So they are," he cried,—"worse. I feel sometimes as if I could kill them all."

"Gone to her own cabin, Dale," said Mr Frewen, meeting us at the saloon-door-way, and Mr Preddle looked at us inquiringly.

"Dale is afraid of Miss Denning seeing his wounds," said Mr Frewen, laughing. "He does not think they look the proper kind to be proud of."

"I wish you wouldn't joke me about my bad face, Mr Frewen," I said, as we entered the far cabin, where the mate was seated by Captain Berriman's cot, and I was startled to see how changed he looked.

But his eyes were bright, and he held out his hand to each in turn, as we stood about with the door well open, the place of course being very small.

"Now, sir," said Mr Brymer, firmly, "you know how we stand. I'm horribly averse to taking life, but things cannot go on as they are."

"No," said the captain, in a voice hardly above a whisper. "You must act now, and firmly, before there is loss of life on our side."

"That means then," said Mr Frewen, "shooting down every man who attacks us."

"Of course," said a low, firm voice, and I started to see that Mr Denning was standing outside.

"My practice is always to save life if I can, Mr Denning," said the doctor, sadly. "Are you not too hard and revengeful?"

"Neither, sir," replied Mr Denning, sternly. "If I were alone I would say nothing, but I have my sister to protect, and I say that at any cost these ruffians must not leave that place alive."

There was so absolute a silence in the captain's cabin, that we all heard distinctly a piteous sigh from that which Mr Denning had just left.

"Yes, Mr Denning is quite right," said Mr Preddle, in his highly-pitched voice. "I hate all this, and I am not a fighting man; but I know that I shall fire on the first wretch who tries to break out without a qualm."

"You hear, Mr Frewen," said the mate; "I am forced by circumstances to take very strong measures."

"That may mean the death of several of those misguided men?" said Mr Frewen, excitedly.

"I fear so, sir. But Captain Berriman agrees with me that it is our duty, unless we like to well provision a boat and leave the ship."

"But that would be a terrible alternative," said Mr Frewen, hastily.

"Terrible, sir; and a cowardly and unfaithful one to the owners of the vessel."

"But can we not keep the men down until you are able to run into some port?"

"When we have run into the region of calms. No, sir, even if we had favourable winds we are horribly short-handed, and I should not dare to make much sail for fear of a change, and being unable to reduce it."

"But that is not the point, doctor," said the captain, in a feeble voice; "those scoundrels are certain to make a desperate effort to break out before many hours have passed, and if they do, I fear that you gentlemen will be too humane to back up Mr Brymer and the men."

"But—" began Mr Preddle.

"Pray understand, gentlemen, that I do not doubt your courage," said the captain.

"Nor I, gentlemen," cried Mr Brymer, warmly. "You have to a man—and boy," he added hastily as he glanced at me—"proved how I can trust you; but there is not one of you who would not shrink, and naturally too, from shooting down one of our enemies. Am I not right?"

"I'm afraid so," replied Mr Frewen, gravely. "Even Mr Denning would shrink from the stern necessity."

I glanced at Mr Denning, and saw him wince.

"Then you will agree with Captain Berriman and me that some very stern measures must be taken?"

"Yes," said Mr Preddle.

"I do, certainly," replied Mr Denning.

Mr Frewen and I were both silent; but at last the doctor spoke.

"What do you propose doing?" he said, rather huskily.

"That is what we are here to decide, and that quickly, for one or two of us must always be on deck. Can you suggest anything, either of you?"

No one spoke, and I felt that whoever did would feel like a judge condemning a man to death.

"Time is flying, gentlemen," said the mate. "We must act, and the captain and I ask for your help to share this terrible responsibility; for whatever we do we shall have to answer for to the laws of our country."

"Yes," said Mr Frewen, solemnly, "and to our God."

"Amen," said Mr Denning, softly; and he walked into the cabin, and laid his hand upon that of Captain Berriman, both men gazing into each other's eyes as if in their feeble state they might soon be called upon to answer the question what they had done with the talents committed to their charge.

Perhaps I was very weak then, and I ought to have been stronger and more manly; but my eyes grew very dim, and for some minutes I could not see what was going on.

Mr Frewen was the first to break the solemn silence.

"Gentlemen," he said; and then he stopped while every one turned to him, and I thought how handsome, manly, and yet how stern he looked as he stood gazing straight before him and through the cabin-window at the glittering sea, while I could hardly hear a breath. Then he went on—"Heaven knows," he said, "that I would not shrink from my duty; and Mr Denning may rest assured, that if it comes to the worst, I will give my life sooner than harm should come to the dear lady we all reverence— and love. But I shrink, as a man who has had so much to do with life and death, from taking the life of any one, however vile he may be."

Mr Brymer fidgeted a little, and Mr Frewen saw it.

"Bear with me a few moments," he said, "and I have done. I shrink, I say, from shedding blood; but if the stern necessity comes, I will strike home as a man should at such a time."

"You—" began Mr Brymer.

"Stop, sir, and hear me out," said Mr Frewen. "It seems to me that there can be no doubt of one thing: if we can shoot down—wounded, I hope—this man Jarette, we might easily master his followers."

"I have no doubt of that whatever," said Mr Brymer.

"Exactly, and that shall be done if all other methods fail."

"What other methods, sir?" said Mr Denning.

"You gentlemen may have some plans, for my part I have but one."

"We have no plans," they all said eagerly. "Then you have one?"

"Yes," said Mr Frewen. "I have one—a wild and desperate one, whose aim is to separate Jarette from his followers, living, and to make him prisoner. It may fail, for it is, as I say, a wild and desperate plan."

"In Heaven's name then, doctor, what is it?" said the captain, feebly. "Speak out, sir; you know how bad I am, and that this business is killing me."

"Then I will speak out, captain," said Mr Frewen, warmly. "I did mean to ask you all to wait, and have confidence in me sufficient to let me have forty-eight hours for my trial without divulging what I intended to do."

"The times are too desperate, Mr Frewen," said the mate. "Don't ask that of us."

"No; I say I will speak, but I ask you not to look upon the attempt as childish or absurd until it has been tried."

He paused, and seeing how faint and hot the captain looked, bade me step back, and push the saloon-light farther open.

I did so, and returned nervous and excited, in dread lest I should miss a word.

But Mr Frewen had not spoken, but stood looking straight before him. Then he said quickly—"I am going to do rather a risky thing, an act which may imperil men's lives; but I shall be as guarded as possible."

"Yes," said Mr Denning, eagerly.

"Before long," continued Mr Frewen, in a low, firm voice, "a fresh supply of food and water must be given to those men. They cannot be starved to death."

"No, of course not," said Mr Brymer, excitedly.

"Then you grasp of course what I propose doing. I shall drug that food with one of the powerful extracts which I have in my medicine-chest. It will be passed down to the men, who will be almost voracious, and then we shall have to wait until it has taken effect, open the hatch, secure Jarette, and separate the others into, say, three parties—one in the cable-tier, the other in the forecastle, the last in the hold or one of the cabins. The rest, I think, will be easy."

There was a dead silence.

"Do you think my plan too wild?"

"No," said Mr Denning, quickly. "God bless you, doctor!" and he held out both his hands.

"Yes, that plan will do," said Captain Berriman, "I feel assured."

"Yes, yes," was murmured in a tone full of emotion; and at that moment there was a sharp crack which seemed to have come from somewhere in the saloon.



CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

We all ran out, but no one was there, and Walters' cabin door was fast.

I was quickest, and ran out of the saloon, but there was no one nearer than the forecastle-hatch in one direction, and on the other as I ran up the ladder there was the man at the wheel, one of the men we had secured, while the other was seated on the bulwark talking to him and smoking.

"What could it have been?" I thought, for a shiver of dread had run through me, a dread that some one had been listening, and overheard the doctor's words.

But the next moment I laughed, and went back to those who were examining the various cabins.

"All right," I said, pointing upwards, "that was it; I did not properly fasten up that sky-light, and it fell down."

It was exactly as I said, for there was the window I had stuck open shut closely down.

"I was afraid that some one had been listening to what I had planned," said Mr Frewen.

"So was I, sir," I said, "but we're all right. The men were both at the wheel."

The next minute we were all in consultation again. I say we, for I was quite made one of them, young as I was. Then the matter was thoroughly discussed, for Mr Frewen's plan proved to be not so easy on consideration as we had at first supposed.

"You see, gentlemen," said Mr Brymer, "it's one thing to set a trap, and another to get your rats to walk into it. How were you thinking of giving it to them?"

"I thought dissolved in water," replied Mr Frewen.

"Two objections to that," said Mr Denning; "the stuff would make it taste, and in all probability some of the men would not take it."

"I'll answer for it that Jarette would not touch water," cried Mr Brymer, "so that plan will not do. You can't give it to him with biscuits. Yes, what's the matter?" he cried, for there was a loud rapping at the entrance to the saloon.

"Beg pardon, sir," said Bob Hampton's voice, "here's a deppytation from the chaps in the forksle."

"What?" cried Mr Brymer, in alarm, "are they out?"

"No, sir, not they. One of 'em's got up into the hatchway as spokesman, and he's been giving us a bit of his mind."

"What does he say?"

"Says as he wants to know whether you mean to starve 'em out; as they've on'y had some water and biscuit for twenty-four hours, and that if you don't send 'em some grub, they'll set fire to the ship, for they'd sooner be roasted than starved."

"All right, Hampton; go back and tell them that we will see what can be done, but that if they fire another shot they shall not have a biscuit."

"Right, sir," growled Hampton, and he turned upon his heel and went back, while Mr Brymer exclaimed in an excited whisper—

"There, doctor, could anything be better?"

"No; they are playing into our hands; but there is the difficulty still. How can we give it to them? It must be something of which all will partake. Why not have some coffee made for them?"

"Half of them wouldn't touch it," said Captain Berriman. "I'd suggest grog, but they have spirits no doubt, and they want food."

There was a dead silence, and then feeling nervous, and as if I was certain to be snubbed, I ventured to speak.

"Wouldn't a tin of the soup do?" I said.

Mr Brymer brought his hand down on my shoulder.

"The very thing!" he cried eagerly. "You have some tins of soup amongst the Australian meat, captain?"

"Yes, plenty."

"That will do then, only it must be done with a certain amount of cunning, or they may have suspicions. Depend upon it, if I am seen in it they will not take the stuff."

"Then what is to be done?" said Mr Frewen.

"I propose," replied Mr Brymer, "that I get a couple of tins out of the store and open them. Then Dale here shall take them to the cook; the excuse for their being opened is to be that so many tins have gone bad."

"Which is true enough," said the captain, feebly.

"Exactly," continued Mr Brymer; "and these were opened to make sure that they were all right."

"Well?"

"You can give me the stuff—laudanum, or whatever it is—to mix with the contents of one tin, which Dale can take to the cook, and tell him to warm up and reduce with hot water, while he reserves the other for our table."

"But why give him two?" said the doctor.

"Because I want to avert suspicion in every way. The cook has been mixed up with the men, and he shut himself up as you know in dread of our punishing him, perhaps shooting him down. He may suspect something, and manage to warn the men. If two tins are sent, one for the men and one for our own table, everything will look simple and ordinary."

"And suppose he gives us the drugged one by mistake?"

"We can guard against that by sending a large one and a small one. No— by sending two different kinds."

"There is only one kind," said the captain.

"I don't like the plan," said the doctor. "It may end in a mistake, and we don't want to be hoist with our own petard."

"Hang it, no!" cried Mr Brymer. "All right then, we will not eat the soup."

"But why shouldn't I take my drug—it will only be a small portion of a white powder—and drop it into the soup when it is ready?"

"Because there would certainly be some hitch in the proceedings to hinder you getting it in. Besides, we don't want the cook to be in the secret."

"Very well then," said the doctor, "I suppose that must be the plan. I'll go and get the drug ready at once, and bring it here. But one minute; how many men are there in the forecastle?—because I must reckon accordingly."

"Say sixteen. You must give them a pretty good dose."

"Yes; but not strong enough to be risky," said Mr Frewen; and he signed to me to go with him to his cabin, where he opened his medicine-chest, and after a little thought, carefully weighed out, from a stoppered bottle, an absurdly small portion of a whitish powder and placed it in a square of white paper.

"There," he said, "take that to Mr Brymer, and tell him to give it a good stir round, or we shall be killing some of the scoundrels, and letting others off scot free."

"Yes," I said, looking with no little interest at the powder which he had turned out of the tiny scales he had used. "The cook is sure to stir it well too. But, Mr Frewen, will that little pinch or two of stuff be enough?"

"Plenty," he said. "It is as far as I dare go, for it is most potent."

"And it will send them off to sleep?"

"Into a sleep so deep that it would be impossible to awaken them for some hours."

"Ugh!" I ejaculated, as I took the little packet and thrust it into my pocket. "I hope, if ever you give me any physic, you'll be careful not to give me any out of the wrong bottle."

"I'll take care," he said. "Mind you warn Mr Brymer to be very careful too."

I nodded and went out of the cabin, took a turn along the deck to see that the men were keeping watch by the forecastle-hatch, and then turned in at the galley to say a word or two to the cook, asking him what we were to have for our dinner. I went straight back to where Mr Brymer was down in the captain's store-room with a lantern, by whose light I could see before me two of the large well-known drum-shaped tins of portable soup.

"Got it?" he said in a whisper.

I handed him the packet without a word.

"Look here," he said. "There are two kinds, with blue label and yellow label. You see I shall put the stuff in the yellow labelled tin."

"Yes, I see," I replied; and he opened the packet, shook out the contents, so that it lay spread on the top of the brown-looking gluey meat essence, and then stirred it well round with a knife, till it could not help being well mixed.

"There, we must chance that," he whispered, "but it seems a very small dose."

"Mr Frewen said it was wonderfully strong," I said.

"Well, we must hope so. Take the tins. You will not make any mistake?"

"Oh no, I'll take care," I said. "The yellow one for the men, the blue for us; but you don't catch me touching it."

"Nor me, Dale," he said, with a nod. "And look here, I shan't open this, but here's a big tin of kangaroo-tail; give him that too for warming up for our dinner."

I went away pretty well loaded, and walked to the galley.

"Here," I said, trying to speak merrily, but it was all forced, for I felt exceedingly nervous. "I was asking you just now what was for dinner. Here you are—kangaroo-tail for our dinner, and that soup in the blue tin; and you're to put plenty of water to this other one, and make a half-bucket-full of soup for the men in the forecastle. How soon will it be ready?"

"Five minutes. I've plenty of boiling water. Who opened them?"

"We did," I replied. "They are all right, but some of the tins are going bad."

"Yes; I've had some I was glad to pitch overboard, sir, and if I had my way I'd make the folks as sells such rubbish for poor sailors eat it themselves."

"And serve 'em right. You understand you're to keep this one for us, and get ready the yellow tin?"

"All right, Mr Dale."

"Hulloa, cookie, what's for dinner?" said the man who had just been relieved from taking his trick at the wheel. "Oh!—didn't know you were here, sir."

"Chump end of a hurdy-gurdy and organ sauce, messmate," said the cook, meaning to be very facetious, while I walked out of the galley, passing the man who had been sitting aft talking to the steersman.

I reported the progress of what I had done to Mr Brymer, and then waited for further orders.

"I think I'll stand out of this business altogether now, Dale," he said. "Wait a few minutes and then take one of the men, say Dumlow, and serve out the stuff to them, passing down a fresh supply of biscuits as well. What's the matter?"

I flushed up.

"I—I don't quite like doing it, Mr Brymer," I said.

He looked at me angrily, but his face softened directly.

"No," he said, "it is not a pleasant task. It seems treacherous and cruel, but I cannot show myself in the matter. They might turn suspicious. Some one in authority must go, and it is a work of sheer necessity. You will have to go, Dale."

"Yes, sir, I'll go," I said firmly. "I don't like it, but I know it is right."

"Go on then, my lad, and carry it through for all our sakes. Be careful that the man with you does not touch it."

I nodded, and the time being near, I thrust my hands into my pockets, and began to whistle as I walked forward, passed the galley, and I was about to speak to Dumlow, who was on the watch, when a voice came out of the hatchway sounding smothered but unmistakable as Jarette's.

"Now then, you sirs. Are there to be any rations served out, or are we to set fire to the ship?"

"Can't you wait a few minutes?" I said, trying to speak coolly as I saw the two men who had been by the wheel smoking their pipes near the galley and looking on.

"Minutes, you whipper-snapper!" he snarled; "we've been waiting hours."

"If you're not civil I'll tell the cook to keep the soup back for an hour."

"Soup? What soup?" he cried.

"Soup the cook's getting ready; Dumlow, go and get the biscuit-bag."

Jarette uttered a grunt, and there was a buzz of voices from below whose tones plainly enough told of eager expectation, for they had been pretty well starved since they had been shut down in the cabin.

Dumlow fetched the bag of biscuits, and with the men watching me I prepared to go forward.

"Better let me do it, sir," growled Bob Hampton; "they may shoot."

"No, I don't think they will," I said quietly, as I looked aft to see that my friends were, like the men hard by, watching me, and Barney Blane right aft at the wheel. "Look here, below there," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, for I felt horribly nervous, and could not help thinking that if anything went wrong the mutineers would visit what had been done on me.

"Look here, you, I'm going to serve out biscuits and soup. I shall hand the tins down through the hole in the hatch. Fair play. No pistols now."

"Let's have the soup, and don't chatter, boy," said Jarette, sharply, and just then the cook came out smiling with a bucket nearly full of steaming, fragrant-smelling soup, and the man who had been by the wheel came behind him carrying a dozen tin mugs whose handles were strung on a piece of rope.

"Here we are!" I said, strung up now to get the miserable business over as quickly as I could, and just then the cook set the bucket down on the deck, and began to stir it with a big iron ladle.

"Lot o' preserved vegetables and herbs and all in it, sir," he exclaimed. "If I don't stir they'll go to the bottom."

"Oh, keep stirring!" I said huskily, as I took a tin, made Dumlow lay some biscuits on the wooden boarding over the hatch, and I held the tin ready while the cook filled it from the ladle.

The next minute, with my hand trembling, I handed the first tin and a biscuit down, for both to be snatched from me. Then I shivered and felt that all was over, for a familiar voice said—

"Taste that, one of you, and see if it's all right."

"Oh, that's all right! Mister Jarette. Plenty o' salt, pepper, and dried herbs in it," said the cook.

Then there was a peculiar noise below, slightly suggestive of pigs, and a voice said—

"Jolly hot, but—suss!—good—capital!"

"Here, look sharp, skipper, make haste! Here, I'm first," and a dozen other expressions greeted my ear, as, gaining courage, I had a second one filled and passed it down, leaving it to Dumlow now to hand down the biscuits, while as every portion was served there were grunts of satisfaction, and the cook smiled and looked as proud as could be.

"Here you, cookie, bon chef," cried Jarette; "I'll promote you as soon as I come to my rights. Ladle away."

The cook did ladle away, and I handed the tins, moved by a kind of frenzy, so eager was I to get the horrible task over, while my heart beat furiously. I shivered as I heard the men below laughing and talking, as they praised the cook's performance, little imagining the hand I had had in the preparation. But I thought of how horrible it would be if the drug proved too strong for some of the men, or if others got more than their share through its settling down, and in spite of the vigorous use the cook made of his ladle as we neared the bottom, I felt worse and worse, feeling as I did at last, that we were sending down to some of the men that which might prove to be their death.

"That's all!" shouted the cook at last, giving the upturned tin bucket a loud banging with his ladle, and a loud murmur of disappointment came up through the opening.

"Be good boys, then, and I'll make you another lot to-morrow. Why, Mr Dale, sir," he said, turning to me, "it has made you hot; your face is all over great drops."

"Is it?" I said, rather faintly; "I suppose it is very hot."

But all the same I felt cold and ready to shiver, while to escape notice I hurried aft and entered the saloon where the gentlemen were waiting, Mr Brymer following me in.

"Well!" he said eagerly.

"They've taken it to the last drop," I panted, and then to the doctor—"Oh, Mr Frewen, I feel as if I had been committing a dozen murders. I wish I had not said a word about the soup."



CHAPTER THIRTY.

Seeing how thoroughly upset I was, the mate told Mr Frewen to speak to me as soon as he was gone; for he was about to join the men on the watch by the forecastle-hatch, so as to be ready to take action as soon as possible after the drug had acted.

"How soon will it be?" he asked Mr Frewen.

"I cannot tell you. I never administered it like this before, only in small doses as an opiate in cases of intense suffering. It may be soon, it may be an hour or two. If they have, as we suppose, an ample supply of spirits and tobacco below, it is possible that they may retard the action."

"Well," said Mr Brymer, "be ready to come well-armed when I give the signal—two whistles, mind. I shall call upon you the moment I fancy it can be done. Hist!—the men."

For the two sailors whom we had made prisoners through their being at the wheel had been apportioned the duty of taking the steward's place, that poor fellow having without doubt gone overboard on the night of the rising; and as Mr Brymer left the cabin, these two quickly and roughly prepared the table for our mid-day meal, went forward, and brought back a tureen of soup, with a kind of ragout of the kangaroo's tail from the tin.

The dinner was just ready, when there was a noise from forward; and we hurried to the door-way, but it was only to hear a roaring chorus rise from the forecastle-hatchway.

"They have begun at the spirits," said Mr Frewen. And then telling the two sailors to ask Mr Brymer to come and join us, the men went forward, spoke to the mate, and he came to the saloon entrance.

"Better come and join us, Brymer," said Mr Frewen. "You want food: and we can tell by the cessation of the noise they are making when the time for action has come."

"Oh, I can't eat, man, at a time like this!" said the mate, excitedly.

"You must, to keep up your strength. Will Miss Denning join us?"

This to Mr Denning, who shook his head.

"No; let her stay in her cabin. She would only be in our way. I will take her in some dinner."

"You had better keep up appearances, so that the men may not notice anything. Mr Preddle, help the soup."

I shuddered, and every one turned pale.

"Oh, there is no risk," said the mate quickly. "But here, make the plates and spoons look as if they had been used, and then throw all the soup out of the stern-window."

I brightened a little at hearing this, for the possibility of the cook having made a mistake was always before my eyes. So after satisfying ourselves that the men were not likely to return yet, I was one of the busiest in dirtying the plates and spoons, and ended by emptying the soup from the window with a feeling of the most intense relief.

"Will it send the fishes to sleep, Mr Frewen?" I whispered, as I placed the empty tureen back in its place.

"Bad for them if it does," he said, with an attempt at looking merry. "For their enemies are safe to swallow them while they are napping."

"With both eyes open," said Mr Preddle.

The departure of the soup acted like a charm on all; and after Mr Brymer had been down once more as far as the forecastle, we all began to partake of the savoury Australian dish the cook had prepared, with an abundance of rich gravy, and the whole surrounded by a thick wall of beautifully cooked white rice.

Though our meals had been rough and unsatisfactory for many hours, every one began his dinner with manifest distaste, for it was impossible to avoid thinking of what had been done; but after a portion had been taken into the cabin by Mr Denning for his sister, and a little of the gravy and rice to the captain by the doctor's orders, first one made a little pretence of eating by nibbling at his biscuit, then another tasted the savoury-looking dish and commented upon it, and a minute later, as a jovial chorus came rolling out of the forecastle-hatch, Mr Frewen began to eat.

"Come, Dale," he said, "have some dinner, and forget all that. It was your duty, my lad."

"Yes; I will try," I said; and making an effort, I mastered my disinclination and swallowed a mouthful.

"Capital, isn't it?" said Mr Frewen, smiling.

"Yes, it is good," I replied; and I went on, feeling surprised at my returning appetite.

The result was that Mr Brymer and Mr Denning fell to, and we were all—perhaps in a forced manner, to encourage each other—loud in our praises of the dish, of which we ate heartily.

In fact, when I had nearly finished my plateful, a thought struck me, and after a little hesitation I turned to Mr Brymer.

"Well?" he said. "What is it, Dale?"

"I was thinking, sir," I said.

"What of—the gang singing? They're passing the bottle round pretty freely."

"No, sir," I said. "I was thinking how tantalising it must be to hear this dinner going on, and smell it, and not get some."

"Oh, we'll call the men to finish it when we've done. Poor fellows! they work hard for us, and we will not stand on ceremony now."

"I meant Walters, sir," I said.

"Humph! The treacherous young hound! Why, you don't mean you want to take him some?"

"Yes, I do, sir," I said quickly. "I don't like him, or defend him, but I'd give him a plate of this."

Mr Brymer looked round the table and frowned.

"Well," he said, "take him some, but mind he don't get out."

I rose eagerly. Mr Preddle smiled all over his round, plump face, and well filled a plate, which I bore to the cabin in which Walters was prisoned, and unfastening it, bore it in.

He was leaning against the ship's side, gazing out of the cabin-window, and would not turn his head.

"I've brought you some dinner," I said, but he paid no attention, and I repeated the words, but still he did not move. "Oh, very well," I said. "If you like to be sulky, be so. I'll take it back."

He faced round in an instant. Hunger is, after all, very taming.

"Set it down," he said shortly; and thereat our eyes met, and he saw my bruised and disfigured features. His face expanded in an unpleasantly triumphant grin.

"Oh, all right," I said, setting the plate and biscuit down on the locker, though feeling all the time as if I should like to take it back. "Laugh away; you don't look so very beautiful, Mr Pirate Lieutenant."

He gave an angry start, and the smile changed to a savage frown, which did not improve a pair of terribly black eyes and a cut and swollen lip.

But I was ready to give him quite as defiant a look as I opened the door, and then going out I re-locked him in, and went back to my place, ready for some more of the kangaroo stew.

"Well, was he very grateful?" said Mr Brymer.

I shook my head, and finished my dinner in silence, listening the while to the men, who were singing uproariously.

"Your prescription seems to agree with them, Mr Frewen," said the mate significantly, as we all rose.

"Yes; but wait a wee, as the Scotch folk say."

"Yes, up by the forecastle," said the mate. "Put your pistols in your pockets, and we'll keep watch and listen to the effects of the drug while the men have their meal. Dale, my lad, take Blane at the wheel a portion, while I send the others to have theirs."

I hastily obeyed, taking a pretty good ration for Barney Blane, who must have been having pretty good sniffs of the savoury food to slacken his appetite, and he grinned hugely as he saw me approach.

"That's your sort, sir; I was getting hungry."

"Can you eat and steer too, Barney?" I said.

"Can I eat and steer too?" he cried. "You just set that theer on the binnacle, sir, and come back in ten minutes and see."

"I will, Barney," I said, "and bring you some grog too."

"And I'll say you're a real gentleman, Mr Dale, sir, that I will, and drink your health."

"You shall, Barney," I said, turning to go.

"But I say, sir, ain't they pretty lively down in the forksle?"

"Yes, very."

"What did you serve out? Were it rum?"

"No, Barney, soup," I said; "but wait a bit and they won't be quite so merry."

"No, sir, they won't. It's unlimited grog, for they've got plenty down below; but, as you say, wait a bit. They will have done by-and-by."

"They will," I said to myself, with a faint shiver of nervousness coming over me again as I descended the ladder, just as, relieved from duty, Bob Hampton and Neb Dumlow came aft.

"In with you," I said, "and eat away. The others coming?"

"No, Mr Dale, sir; they've been having their snack along with the cook in the galley, and got it done."

"The more for you then," I said, trying to laugh, but feeling very serious indeed.

They entered on tip-toe as if afraid of disturbing the captain and Miss Denning, and directly after were eating ravenously at the remainder of the meal.

It was a lovely day, and I could not help thinking what a pity it was that Miss Denning should not be on deck watching the blue sea and the silvery, fleecy clouds. Every now and then some fish sprang out of the clear water as if disturbed by the Burgh Castle's prow as she glided along due south almost upon an even keel. One moment I felt disposed to suggest to Mr Denning that he should bring her out to where the sails cast a shade, but the singing of the men in the forecastle and the anxious looks of Mr Brymer and the gentlemen with him reminded me of the serious business in hand.

The cook was busy in his galley, and the two men were lolling about talking to him now and then, and occasionally glancing aft, waiting for Bob Hampton and Dumlow to finish before going aft to clear away, and fetch the things to the galley, where they would get hot water to wash up.

How beautiful and calm and peaceful it all seemed! The ocean looked so lovely, and I felt so happy and so much at peace that it seemed a pity for me to have that pistol stuck in my belt, for it was in my way as I laid my arms on the bulwarks and my breast against them to listen to the singing of the mutineers. For they were not shouting now. Their voices sounded pleasant and sweet, though I could not make out the words, which came softer and softer, and then there was the chorus almost as soft. I knew why this was. The drug was beginning to take effect, and I felt that before long their voices would be quite hushed. They would be asleep, and I did not mind it now. It was all my exaggerated fancy, I felt, for it would do them good, and bring them to their senses to find themselves separated and away from the influence of Jarette.

I turned to look toward the forecastle, near which Mr Frewen was standing with Mr Brymer, and they were evidently listening attentively, while Mr Preddle and Mr Denning were close up to the bulwarks on the starboard side, I being to port.

After a time Mr Frewen approached me, and I began to think that he was a very much taller man than I had been in the habit of supposing, and his face was bigger too. It looked larger round than Mr Preddle's and there was a peculiar, light, rainbow-like look around it as if I was gazing at him through a spy-glass.

Then I started, for though he was a long way off he took hold of my shoulder with an arm like a telescope, and shook me.

"What's the matter, Dale?" he said. "Don't look like that, my lad. Not well?"

"Not well?" I said, or rather it was as if somebody a long way off said so. "Of course I am. Quite well, thank you."

"Well, don't go to sleep, boy."

He shook me just as I felt as if I was beginning to fly right off over the blue sea, and away into the fleecy clouds, and as I made an effort to get rid of the clutch upon my shoulder, he said, or somebody else said—

"Great heavens! what does this mean?"

I distinctly heard Mr Frewen say that, and wondered what he meant. For it did seem absurd that he should come slowly up to me till his eyes were looking close into mine, and then gradually shrink away again till he was right off on the other side of the ship, and then over the bulwarks and away at sea, till he was no higher than my finger before he came back again.

But though he appeared to be so distant, I could hear him breathing hard all the time.

I was so disgusted that I determined to take no notice of him, and looked instead at the two sailors by the galley. One of them was laughing and the other staring at me very hard. Then he began behaving in the same manner as Mr Frewen, till the doctor said suddenly—

"Drink this."

It was cold water, and tasted, delicious.

"Thank you," I said, with my voice sounding a long way off, and I think it was Mr Brymer who spoke then, but his voice sounded too as if he were distant, though his words were perfectly distinct.

"Over-excitement, isn't it, and the heat of the sun?"

Then after a very long pause Mr Frewen said—

"Perhaps, but I am beginning to be afraid. Yes, that's light, my lad, sit down here in the shade. Take off your cap."

That lad—I did not know who it was then—sat down on the bottom of a tub, and leaned his head back against the bulwarks for the soft breeze to play through his hair; and very pleasant and dreamy and restful it all was for him, whoever he was, while I listened, too, to what was going on.

A great deal appeared to be going on about me just then, and I quite enjoyed it, and somehow it was as if everything was surrounded by beautiful colours. Mr Brymer came and went just as if I were seeing him through a cut-glass decanter-stopper, but he was not half so striking as Mr Preddle, who came and stood over me looking gigantic, but his face and even his clothes were prismatic. So was the air, which now began to descend rapidly, as if it were some brilliant waterfall coming down from the clouds.

"Will you fetch me a cane seat off the poop?"

"Ay, ay, sir."

It was Mr Preddle's highly-pitched voice which I heard, and it was the sailor who had sat talking to the steersman who answered, and soon after I heard the chair squeak very loudly, as big Mr Preddle, looking as large as an elephant now, sat down by the boy on the tub, and leaned his head back against the bulwarks.

He talked to him about the fish, and said that the hot weather did not agree with them, and that he was afraid that kangaroo-tail was too rich a dish to agree with them, for it was indigestible, and made people drowsy.

The boy did not make any answer, but sat staring at Mr Preddle sidewise, wondering why the big stout naturalist also should keep on going and coming in that telescopic fashion, which was so puzzling to me as well as to that boy, who was, however, exceedingly stupid, for he did not say a word, but only stared with his mouth half open.

Then I was listening to Mr Brymer, who was talking anxiously to the doctor, as they stood watching the forecastle-hatch, from which came a deliciously sweet chorus, and I knew why it sounded so pleasant—it was because the men were so far away in the bows, for the Burgh Castle grew longer and longer, till the bowsprit seemed as if it were miles away, but with every rope and block as distinctly seen as if it were still close to me.

"Well, my lad, how are you?" said Mr Frewen just then; but the boy leaning back against the bulwark only stared at him, and I felt ready to kick him for being so rude, and then I wanted to punch Mr Preddle, for he began to snore abominably.

"I don't like it, Frewen," said somebody just then. "What do you say? You don't think it possible that—"

He did not finish speaking, for just then I saw Mr Frewen go to the boy on the tub, and dash some water over his face.

"Now, my lad," he said, "you must get up and walk about."

He took hold of the boy's arm, but did not pull him up, for the lad fought against him angrily, and then I knew I was that boy staring hard at the doctor, and then at Mr Denning, who came along the deck from the companion-way far-distant, crying—

"Doctor—my sister—come directly—she's dying!"

The doctor went away directly, and I saw him going what seemed to be miles away, but so gently and easily that it was like something in a dream. Mr Brymer went after him, and the cook and the two men stood watching them till they disappeared through the saloon entrance, while the men in the forecastle kept on singing a chorus, sounding now loud and now soft, just as one hears the music of a great organ when the performer opens and closes the swell.

I don't know how long it was afterwards, but it did not seem to matter, for everything was so pleasant and calm, before I saw Mr Brymer come back with the doctor, and directly after, though he seemed to be still a long way off, Mr Brymer said—

"I must send another man. He is hanging fast asleep over the wheel."

Then I saw Mr Frewen catch at one of the shrouds and stand gazing at him vacantly, and then I felt quite pleased, for Bob Hampton was there along with Neb Dumlow.

"It is all going to be right now," I thought, though I did not know that anything was wrong, and I felt as if I was just dropping off into a delicious sleep.

But all was quite clear and plain again, as I heard Bob Hampton say—

"Some one has been playing larks with the grub, sir. I can't go to the wheel, for I can't—can't—can't—can't—Here, hold up Neb, lad; don't lurch about like that."

"I'm a-going down, matey, I'm a-going down," growled Dumlow, and I saw him sink on the deck.

"You scoundrels, you've been at the rum!" cried Mr Brymer, and he drew his pistol, but only gave a stagger, and caught about in the air to try and save himself from falling. "Help—Frewen—something—give me something," he panted, and Mr Frewen came to him, feeling his way with his arms stretched out just as if he were playing at blindman's buff.

He came on as if from a great distance, till he touched Mr Brymer, and I heard him whisper the one word—"Treachery."

"I knew it!" cried the mate, fiercely, and cocking his pistol he staggered for a moment just as I saw Bob Hampton sink down on the deck holding his head.

Directly after, as Mr Frewen stood swaying to and fro, the mate rushed to where the cook and the two men stood by the galley-door.

The two sailors shrank away to right and left, while Mr Brymer seized the cook and dragged him away, forcing him down upon his knees, holding him by the collar with one hand, and swaying to and fro as he said thickly—

"You dog, you drugged that dish you sent in to dinner!"

"No, sir—'pon my word, sir—I swear, sir!" shrieked the poor fellow.

"You treacherous hound, you've poisoned us!" stammered out the mate.

"I swear I haven't, Mr Brymer, sir. Don't, sir—that pistol, sir— pray, sir—indeed, indeed, I haven't!"

Mr Brymer was shaking the pistol about threateningly, as he rocked to and fro over the cook, who as he knelt clasped his hands in agony, and I heard him say something very indistinctly, for he was sobbing about his wife and child.

Then there was a loud bang as the pistol fell, and directly after I saw Mr Brymer glide down as it were on to the deck, and roll over toward where Mr Frewen already lay—though I had not seen him fall—with his arms now folded, and his face upon them as if he were asleep.

And still it didn't seem to trouble me in the least. Even when Mr Brymer was gesticulating with his pistol, it did not alarm me, for it was all something interesting going on before me just as if it were part of a dream which would all dissolve away directly, and then I should wake up and think of it no more.

I think my eyes must have been closing then, but they opened widely again, and at one glance I saw my companions perfectly motionless from where I sat back against the bulwark, and heard Mr Preddle snoring heavily by my side. For the cook exclaimed passionately—

"I swear, if it was the last word I had to titter, I've done nothing! I never drugged nobody's food!"

"All right, matey," said the sailor I had seen talking to the steersman; "it warn't you—it was me."

"You?" cried the cook. "You've poisoned them!"

"Not I, my lad," said the man, laughing; and every word he uttered rang in my ears as if it was being shouted by some tremendous voice, for my senses were at that moment abnormally clear. "Not I, my lad. I was up yonder, when I saw Brymer and the rest of 'em get together to have what old Frenchy calls a parley, and they hadn't been there long, leaving me wondering what game was up, and what they were going to do about the lads down below, when I see the sky-light opened a bit. So of course I crep' along the deck to hear what they'd got to say."

"And did you hear?"

"Every word, mate. They were going to get the doctor to find the stuff to send all the lads to sleep, and then they were going to open the hatch and shove Jarette by himself, and the others some in the cable-tier and some in the hold."

"Yes, yes!" cried the cook, eagerly, while I listened hard.

"Well then, that warmint yonder said it ought to be put in the soup, and so they settled it.

"'Two can play at that game,' I says, and I listened till they spoke so low that I opened the light a bit wider, and it slipped out of my hands and went down bang. So I nipped back to set alongside o' Tommy here, and my gentleman comes up to peep, sees me right away, and goes back again. I thought perhaps they'd give it up then, but I kep' my eyes open, and bimeby I sees my nipper here come to you with three tins, and he tells you what to do with them.

"'All right,' I says, 'I can see through that dodge,' so I lays low and waits my chance, empties the tin of soup you'd put aside into a pan, and then pours the one you were going to use into the one you'd set aside, and that out of the pan into the tin, but I washed it out first, and put it ready for you to use."

"You couldn't; I was here all the time," said the cook, angrily.

"Oh, was you? Didn't go round to the back to fetch taters, did you?"

"Of course. I forgot."

"Ah, that's right," continued the man. "But I warn't satisfied then, for I says to myself, 'Them poor beggars down below won't get the dose now, but I should like t'others to have a taste;' and to make sure as they did, I takes the tin as you'd got the lumps o' meat in, pours out all the pieces and fills it up from the tin they'd doctored, and filled it up again with the juice I'd poured out; now I says to myself, whichever lot they have'll give 'em what they meant for some one else— and so it did. My word, they mixed it pretty strong."

"Why, the tins were wet and sticky!" cried the cook.

"Course they was, mate; I had to be in such a hurry for fear of your coming back."

"And I couldn't make out about that pan."

"Hadn't time to wash it, messmate."

"Then I gave the lads down below the soup the cabin was to have had?"

"You did."

"And them in the cabin the soup and kangaroo they'd physicked?"

"That's so, matey, and their games are over again. You'll jyne us, won't you?"

"I? Join you?" faltered the cook, looking across at me; "here, what are you going to do?"

"Let the lads out again. It's their turn now."

And just then the men in the forecastle finished a chorus and began to cheer.

"I shall wake up from this dream directly," I remember thinking, but I did not, for all was black, and I was in the deepest sleep that I ever had in my long life.



CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

Hot! So hot that I could hardly breathe, and so dark that I could not see across the cabin. My head ached, and I was terribly sleepy, with a heavy, unsatisfied drowsiness, which kept me from stirring, though I longed to get out of my cot and go and open the window, and at the same time have a good drink from the water-bottle.

I was lying on my brick, and there was the impression upon me that I had been having bad dreams, during the passing of which I had been in great trouble of some kind, but what that trouble was I could not tell; and as soon as I tried to think, my brain felt as if it was hot and dry, and rolling slowly from side to side of my skull.

I was very uncomfortable and moved a little, but it made my head throb so that I was glad to lie still again and wait till the throbbing grew less violent.

"It all comes of sleeping in a cabin in these hot latitudes with the window closed. Mr Frewen ought to know better," I thought, "being a doctor. I'll tell him of it as soon as he wakes."

This is how I mused, thinking all the time how foolish I was not to get up and open the window, but still feeling no more ready to cool the stifling air of the cabin.

"What makes men snore so?" I thought then, and began to wonder how it was that so gentlemanly a man as the doctor should make such a noise in his sleep. I had never heard him do so before. As a rule he lay down, closed his eyes, and went off fast, breathing as softly as a baby till he woke in the morning. Now his breathing was what doctors call stertorous, heavy and oppressed.

"Oh, how I wish he would wake up and open the window!" I thought; but he did not wake up nor cease breathing so heavily, and I lay thinking about coming to bed on the previous night. That is to say, I lay trying to think about coming to bed, for I could not recall anything. I had some dreamy notion of its having been my watch; but whether I had taken it, or whether it was yet to come and some one was due to rouse me up soon, I could not tell.

"It's all due to having such a headache," I thought, "and of course through this horrid air. Why doesn't he wake up and open the window?"

How long that lasted I cannot tell, but it must have been for some time, during which my brain burned and my thoughts came in a horribly confused manner. I could hear the sounds on deck, and feel that the ship was careening over with the breeze, but these facts suggested nothing to me, and I must have been in quite a stupor, when I was roused by a voice saying angrily—

"Well, what is it?"

I knew the voice from its rough harsh tones, and I lay waiting for some one to answer, but there was no reply, and all was blacker and hotter than ever, when there came the peculiar smacking noise of one passing his tongue over his dry lips, and once more he spoke.

"D'yer hear, what is it?"

There was no reply, and it seemed to me that the speaker was settling himself down to go to sleep again, for he moved uneasily.

"What did yer say, Neb?"

I had not heard Neb Dumlow say anything, and I wondered why I had not, for I did not think I had been to sleep. But I felt that I must have been, or I should have heard.

"Mussy me, what a head I've got!" muttered the voice. "Did the gents give us some rum?"

There was a pause.

"Must ha' done, but I don't recklect. Why, it must ha' been a whole lot."

My head must have been growing less confused, for now I began to be puzzled about how it was that Bob Hampton was sleeping in our cabin instead of just under shelter with the others at the entrance of the saloon. It was very strange, but I was too stupid to arrange things. Once I wondered whether I really was in the cabin along with Mr Frewen, but I got no farther with that line of reasoning, and I was sinking back into my stupor or lethargy when Bob Hampton spoke again.