“I says as I’ll clap this here schooner right over two or three spots where old ships went down, and also off the coast where one on ’em lies buried in the sand, all but her ribs and a few planks,” said the old sailor, Sam Oakum.

“He’s a liar – a cheat. Bah!” exclaimed the Cuban with contempt.

“I wouldn’t adwise you to say them sorter things, gov’nor,” said Oakum, quietly. “I knowd a chap as rubbed the skin off the bridge of his nose wunst and blacked both his eyes agin my fist for saying less than that.”

“Bah!” said the Cuban, snapping his fingers.

“And do you know, Oakum?” exclaimed Mr Parkley, eagerly. “Can you prove it?”

“If anybody would pass a man a bit o’ ’bacco, I could, I dessay,” said the old fellow quietly. “Thanky, mate. Just pass the word for ’Pollo to come aft, will you? He’s in the galley.”

A sailor who had given Oakum the tobacco ran forward, while all waited in breathless attention – the Cuban standing like a statue, with folded arms, but, in spite of his apparent composure, smoking furiously, like a volcano preparing for an eruption.

The sailor came back directly.

“Says he’s cooking the passengers’ dinner, and can’t leave it, sir,” said the sailor.

“Tell the cook to come here directly. I want him,” exclaimed the captain, sternly; and the sailor ran off, returning with ’Pollo, the black cook, rubbing his shiny face.

“I speck, sah, if de rose meat burn himself all up, you no blame de cook, sah,” he said.

“No, no, ’Pollo; only answer a question or two.”

“Yes, sah; d’reckly, sah.”

“Look ye here, ’Pollo, old mate,” said Oakum; “you and I have had some rum voyages in our time, old nigger.”

“You call me ole mate, sah,” said ’Pollo, angrily, “I answer hundred tousan queshtum. You call me nigger, sah, I dam if I say noder word.”

“It’s all right, ’Pollo, I won’t any more. You’re a coloured gentleman; and, though I chaff you sometimes, I know that I can always depend on you, fair weather or foul.”

The black nodded, showed his white teeth, and his eyes twinkled.

“Now look here, ’Pollo, old man; do you remember being in the little brig off Caraccas, when we had the gold?”

“Yes, sah, I membah well; and membah when we had do tree hundred lilly women aboard de big ship, and de big horse alligator woman. Yah, yah, yah!”

“So do I, ’Pollo; but what did we do when we were in the brig?”

“Catch de fish,” said ’Pollo.

“To be sure we did; but what did we find lying down fathoms deep in the clear water?”

“You mean de ole ’Panish gold ship, sah?”

“There!” said Sam Oakum, turning round with a grim smile on his mahogany face; “Ain’t that there corroborative evidence, sir?”

“We find two ole ship, sah, and one on de shore,” said ’Pollo, volubly, “and I dibe down, sah.”

“Did you find anything?” said Mr Parkley, eagerly.

“No, sah, him too deep down, but I membah perfect well, sah, all about ’em. All ’Panish ship, sah.”

“That will do, ’Pollo,” said Mr Parkley. “Now go and see to the dinner. By-the-way, ’Pollo, will you come into the cabin after dinner, and join Mr Oakum in drinking a glass of wine to the success of our voyage?”

“I hab great pleasure, sah,” said the black, with his eyes twinkling; and as he went away bowing and smiling, Mr Parkley turned to the Cuban.

“Now, Mr Lorry, or Lauré, or whatever your name is, will you have the goodness to step ashore? This is my ship, and this expedition belongs to me and my partner. You have refused to carry out your contract before twenty witnesses, and now you see that I can do without you.”

“But,” said Lauré, “the man is mad. He cannot take you; but I will not carry my revenge so far. Make me a good concession and I will consent to go.”

“I thank you, Señor Lauré, for endorsing the statement of our old friend, Oakum, and the ship’s cook, and since you are so kind, I will make you a concession.”

“You consent,” said the Cuban, more eagerly than he intended.

“Yes,” said Mr Parkley. “You shall be allowed to walk off the ship instead of being kicked off. Captain Studwick, see that man off this deck.”

A look that was almost demoniacal overspread the Cuban’s face, and shaking his fist menacingly, he stepped on to the wharf and disappeared through the crowd.

“Now, then,” said Mr Parkley, triumphantly, “we are ready. Captain Studwick, westward ho! Hallo, what now? What is it, Rasp?” as that individual came panting up.

“Are you sure as you’ve got all your company aboard?” said Rasp.

“Yes, I think so. Eh, captain?”

“My crew is all right, certainly,” said the captain. “I don’t know anything about yours.”

“To be sure, I did not think to look after them as they had promised to be aboard in good time. Where are John Tolly and James Morrison?”

“What, them?” said Oakum. “Oh, they came aboard at nine this morning.”

“Yes,” said one of the sailors, “but they went ashore again about ten; I saw ’em go.”

“There,” said Rasp, “where would you have been without me? I see John Tolly go by the orfice half-an-hour ago, so drunk he could hardly walk, and Morrison as well, and – ”

“Tut, tut, tut! we must have them,” exclaimed Mr Parkley. “The scoundrels! to deceive us like this. Pugh, come ashore, we must get the police to help us.”

“Then we shall not sail to-day,” said the captain, with a shrug. “Never mind, we shall have the more time for getting ship-shape.”

“Nonsense!” said Mr Parkley eagerly; “we shall soon be back.”

The captain shook his head, for he knew better; and night had fallen, and no more had been seen of the two divers on whom so much depended.

As the day wore on, Mr Parkley and Dutch returned to the ship two or three times to report progress, if such it could be called, for nothing was heard of the two divers.

“Dutch Pugh,” said Mr Parkley, on one of these meetings, “I shall never forgive myself. Here am I, as I thought, such a business-like man, and what do I do but go and forget to look after the very mainspring of my works. I fit all my wheels together, and then when I want to wind up there’s no springs. What should we have done without divers?”

Night closed in without success, and a little party assembled in the cabin, for as the ship might sail at any time, those who occupied the place of passengers felt that it was hardly worth while to return ashore. Mr Parkley kept a bright face on the matter, but it was evident that he was a good deal dispirited, though he chatted merrily enough, and talked to John Studwick and his sister of the beauties of the land they were about to visit.

“If we get off, Mr Parkley,” said John Studwick, quietly.

“Get off, sir; why of course we shall. These two scoundrels will come off to-morrow morning, penniless, and with sick headaches. The rascals!”

Mr Parkley was reckoning without his host, for at that moment the two divers, each with twenty pounds in his pocket above the advance pay he had drawn, were on their way to London, and the man who had given the money was now forward in the darkest part of the deck, crouching beneath the high bulwarks of the large three-masted schooner, whispering with one of the men.

Their discussion seemed to take a long time, but it ended in the other man of the watch joining them, and the conversation still went on.

It was interrupted by the coming on deck of Captain Studwick, and silence ensued, while the captain took a turn round the deck, and gave an eye to the riding lights, for, as evening had come on, the vessel had been warped out of dock, and lay a couple of hundred yards out in the great estuary, fast to one of the buoys.

“We might have some of the lads taking a fancy to go on shore,” he had said to Mr Parkley, when he complained of having to take a boat to come off; “and we shall be all the more ready to drop down with the tide. I don’t want to find my crew like yours to-morrow morning – missing.”

Finding all apparently quite right, and the lanterns burning, brightly, Captain Studwick took another turn round the deck, peeped down into the forecastle, where the men were talking and smoking, then went right forward and looked over at the hawser fast to the buoy, said a word or two of warning to the men, and went below.

It was now ten o’clock, and excessively dark – so dark that it was impossible to see across the deck, and the lights hoisted up in the rigging seemed like great stars. The buzz of conversation in the forecastle had grown much more subdued, and then suddenly ceased, though a dull buzzing murmur could be heard from the deckhouse, where the dim light of a smoky lantern, hung from the roof, shone upon the bright cooking apparatus with which the place was furnished, and upon the glistening teeth of ’Pollo, the black cook, and Oakum, the old sailor, both smoking, and in earnest converse.

“Yes, ’Pollo,” said Oakum, “it seemed to bring up old times, and some of our vyges, so I thought I’d come and have a palaver before we turned in.”

“I glad to see you, Mass’ Sam Oakum, sah, and I hope you often gin me de pleasure ob your company during de voyage. I ’spect you, Mass’ Oakum, and you always ’spect colour genlum, sah, dough we use quarrel some time.”

“Only chaff, ’Pollo.”

“Course it was, sah, only chaff, and nuffum at all. And now I tink ob it, sah, I hav ’plendid ’rangement here, and supply for de cooking; and when, by an’ by, you find de beef too salt, and de biscuit too hard, juss you drop in here, sah, after dark, and ’Pollo most likely find lilly bit ob somefin nice leff from de cabin dinner.”

“Thanky, ’Pollo, thanky,” said Oakum. “But what do you say, eh ship-mate? I think we can find the old galleons again?”

“I quite ’tent, sah, to put dis ship in de hands ob such sperienced navigator as Mass’ Sam Oakum, who know all ober de world quite perfeck. You tink we sail in de morning?”

“If they catch them two skulking scoundrels of divers, ’Pollo. I’d just like to ropesend that Mr John Tolly. Gets three times the pay o’ the other men, and is ten times as saucy.”

“’Top!”

“Eh?” said Oakum.

“What dat, Mass’ Oakum, sah?” said the black, whose eyes were rolling and ears twitching.

Oakum listened attentively for a few moments, and then went on.

“Nothing at all, my lad, that I could hear.”

“I sure I hear somefin, sah. Let’s go and see.”

They both stepped out on to the deck, and stood and listened, for it was impossible for them to see, though the light from the deckhouse made them stand out plainly in view if anyone else was on the watch.

They saw nothing, for as they stepped out, a man, who was stealing aft, dropped softly down and crouched under the bulwarks.

The hawsers creaked softly as they swung in the tide, and a faint light shone up from the forecastle hatch, while from aft there was a tolerably bright glow from the cabin skylight. Here and there the riding lights of other vessels rose and fell as they were swayed by the hurrying waters, while the lights of the shore twinkled like stars on a black background, but, saving the rippling noise of the tide against the great schooner’s side, all was perfectly still.

“False alarm, ’Pollo,” said Oakum, leading the way back.

“No, sah,” said ’Pollo, reseating himself, cross-legged, beneath the lantern. “I sure I hear somefin, sah, dough I no say what it was.”

“I’ve often wished for you as a mate in a dark watch, ’Pollo,” said Oakum, hewing off a quid of tobacco, and thrusting it into one cheek. “You would not go to sleep.”

“Not ob a night, sah,” said ’Pollo, complacently, “but I no so sure bout dat if de sun shine hot; I go sleep den fass enough.”

They had hardly resumed their conversation when the man who had dropped down under the bulwarks rose, and went softly by the deckhouse, walking rapidly aft to the side, where he climbed over, after running his hand along and finding a rope, slid down, and took his place in a large boat already half-full.

A few moments later and another man crept softly along the deck, went over the side, and slid into the boat.

Another and another followed, and then one man who had been waiting by the forecastle hatch, instead of going aft, opened a sharp knife and crept forward to where the stout coir hawser was made fast to the buoy. It was drawn very tight, for the tide was running in fast, and a few sharp cuts would have divided the strands, with the result that the schooner would have drifted up with the current, and, if it had not fouled, and perhaps sunk some smaller vessel in its course, have run ashore.

The man listened attentively but all was still, and raising his knife he began to saw through the strands, when, rising, he shut the knife with a snap and exclaimed:

“No, hang it all, I won’t. It’s too bad; and there’s a woman aboard. Bad enough as it is.”

Then following the example of those who had gone before, he went softly aft, feeling his way along the bulwarks till his hand came in contact with the rope, and he, too, slid down into the boat.

“Well, did you cut the great rope?” whispered a voice.

“Yes, gov’nor, all right. But not deep,” added the man to himself.

“Quick then, quick then,” whispered the former speaker, “undo this little rope and let the boat float away.”

The boat’s painter was loosened – but not without rattling the iron ring through which it was run – dropped over the side with a splash, and just faintly grating against the vessel’s side the boat glided away, appearing for a few moments in the faint glow cast from the stern windows, and then seeming to pass into a bank of utter darkness.

“I no care what you say, Mass’ Oakum, sah,” said ’Pollo a few moments before; and his great black ears seemed to start forward like those of a hare, “I sure I hear de rattle ob a rope; and you see if dare isn’t a boat under de side.”

He leaped softly up, and ran on deck, followed by Oakum.

“Dere, I sure I right,” whispered the black, pointing astern. “Boat full ob men.”

“I can’t see nowt,” growled Sam. “Let’s go forward and ask the look-out if they heerd anything. Hear a boat touch the side, mates?” he said aloud.

There was no answer.

“The lubbers are asleep,” he cried, angrily; and hurrying to where the men should have been, he found that they were missing, and ran to the hatchway. “Below there!” he shouted. “On deck here, some of yer!”

All silent, and he lowered himself down to find a lantern burning, but not a soul there even in the bunks, the men’s kits being also gone.

“Deserted, by jingo!” cried Oakum, slapping his thigh, as he began to ascend the ladder. “Here, ’Pollo, run and call the skipper.”

“What’s wrong?” cried Captain Studwick, from out of the darkness.

“Not a blessed man, sir, left aboard;” and the captain brought his foot down with a savage stamp upon deck.

Story 1-Chapter X.
Off at Last

The outcry brought the doctor, Mr Wilson, and John Studwick on deck the latter panting, and evidently in a terrible state of alarm.

“Quick, father, the boat, save Bessy, don’t mind me,” he gasped.

“There’s nothing to fear, my boy,” exclaimed the captain, catching the young man’s arm. “Only the men have gone ashore – forsaken the ship. Now go below. Here, you Oakum, what do you mean, you scoundrel? Where’s Mr Jones?”

“Here, sir,” said the mate, who had hurried from his berth. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” exclaimed the captain, stamping about the deck in his rage. “Why, the men have forsaken the ship. What were you about?”

“I beg pardon, Captain Studwick,” said the mate, sharply; “but it was my watch below. You said you would see to the first watch with Oakum.”

“So I did, so I did,” cried the captain. “Here, Oakum.”

“You said I could go below, Capen,” said Oakum, gruffly.

“Did you know anything of this?”

“If I’d know’d anything of it, I should have come and told you,” growled Oakum. “Didn’t I give the alarm as soon as I know’d?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” cried the captain. “There, I beg your pardon, Mr Jones. Don’t take any notice, Oakum. It’s enough to make any man mad. How am I to face Mr Parkley and Mr Pugh when they come off in the morning?”

“Lads on’y gone off to have a good drink, p’raps, sir,” suggested Oakum.

“Drink? No. They’ve been got at and bribed, or persuaded not to go. The scoundrels! I’ll have them before the nearest magistrate and punish them for this.”

“Got to ketch ’em first,” growled Oakum to himself.

“Look here, when did you find this out?” exclaimed the captain.

“When you heerd me shout,” said Oakum. “’Pollo here thought he heard a noise, and we came and looked.”

“And I see de boat go astern wif all de men in, sah,” said ’Pollo, importantly.

“It’s a planned thing, or the men would not have gone off like that,” said the captain. “Mark my words, John, that foreigner’s at the bottom of this. Did either of you see him come near the ship?”

“I did, sah,” cried ’Pollo.

“You did?” exclaimed the captain.

“Yes, sah, jus’ ’fore dark I see um get in boat ’low de wharf, and two men row boat wif um.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, sah, I quite sure. I see um sit in de stern wrap up in um cloak, and smoke cigar. But he nebber come nigh de ship.”

“I thought as much,” groaned the captain. “Here, go below, John. The night air’s chilly. There’s nothing the matter, my child,” he continued tenderly, “only some of the crew have absconded.” For just then Bessy Studwick, very quiet and trembling, had come to his side. “Well, gentlemen, I’m very sorry, but I could not help it, and now I shall have to ask you to share the watch with Mr Jones and myself. Oakum and ’Pollo, go below. Oakum, you will take the next watch with Mr Jones; Mr Meldon, or you Mr Wilson, will, perhaps, join me in the morning watch.”

Both gentlemen expressed their willingness, and the night passed off without further misadventure.

Captain Studwick was quite right, for the Cuban had hovered about the schooner until darkness set in, when, watching his opportunity, he caught the attention of one of the men, who absolutely refused to listen to him at first, but as Lauré bribed higher, and vowed that it was a mad voyage, of which he had himself repented, as he would not expose the men to the risks of the deadly coast where the treasure lay, the man began to listen.

“There are fevers always on those shores, of the most deadly kind,” he whispered; “and I shall feel as if I had sent a party of good British seamen to their death.”

At last his words and his money began to tell. This man was won over, and when the others were brought under the persuasive ways of the Cuban, the dread of punishment for desertion was mastered by another sovereign or two, and after his last words they gave way.

“Take your choice,” he had said at last; “a dog’s death and your body for the sharks in that pestilent clime, or the money I give you. You can take the night train for London, have your run there, and then get a good vessel afterwards.”

An additional sovereign to the man he felt most likely to be his tool made him promise to cut the hawser, and then all went well for the infamous design, except that this man repented of part of his bargain, and the crew of stout, able seamen was taken off, and landed a mile or so above where the schooner lay in the tideway.

By eight o’clock in the morning Mr Parkley and Dutch came off to announce that they had discovered through ’Pollo that when he saw Tolly and the other diver they were on their way to the station, and had taken tickets for London.

“Did you ever have worse news?” said Mr Parkley, bitterly. “It may be months before we can get others who will go, for Layman, my other man, is ill.”

“Yes,” said the captain, quietly.

“What do you mean?” exclaimed Mr Parkley, aghast.

“Our friend the Cuban has seduced all the men away, and stopped the expedition.”

“I’ll be – No, I won’t swear,” exclaimed Mr

Parkley, turning red with fury. “Stopped the voyage, has he! Got my divers away, and the crew, has he! Look here, Dutch Pugh; look here, Captain Studwick. I’m a man who takes a good deal of moving, but when I do move it takes more to stop me. I’ll move heaven and earth to carry this plan out, and I’ll spend every sixpence I’ve got, but what I’ll beat that scoundrel.”

“You will apply to the magistrates about the men?” said the captain; “at least, shall I?”

“No,” said Mr Parkley, sharply. “Might just as well commence proceedings against that scoundrel. Waste of time. Dutch Pugh, you’ll stand by me?”

“Indeed I will, Mr Parkley,” said Dutch, calmly, as he held out his hand.

“And I’m sure I will,” exclaimed the captain.

“I knew you would,” said Mr Parkley, warmly. “I’m determined now, for it’s evident that that rascal will try all he can to thwart me. Come down in the cabin, and let’s see what’s to be done. We’ll have a meeting.”

They were all seated round the cabin table soon after, and the matter was discussed in all its bearings, Captain Studwick saying that he had no fear of being able to get a dozen good men in a day or two, if they were prepared to pay pretty highly.

“Then you must pay highly,” said Mr Parkley; “but look here, every step you take must be with the knowledge that this Lauré is trying to thwart you.”

“I will not boast,” said Captain Studwick, “but if I get a crew on board here again, I think it will take two Laurés to trick me.”

“Good!” said Mr Parkley, beginning to brighten up. “What I want is to get off at once. It will be horrible to stay, for we shall be the laughing-stock of the whole town. The chaff was beginning last night.”

“But about divers?” said the captain.

“Yes, there is the difficulty. It is not every man who will train for it, as it is a risky thing. Perhaps I may be able to train one or two of the men we get. At all events, go I will, and I will not be beaten.”

“I’m afraid that would be but a poor chance,” said Dutch, who sat there pale and troubled, but had hardly spoken.

“Don’t throw cold water on it, Pugh, for Heaven’s sake,” cried Mr Parkley, testily.

“I do not wish to do that,” said Dutch. “I wish to help you.”

“Well, then,” cried Mr Parkley, sharply, “I shall take old Rasp. He’ll go to oblige me, old as he is; and if it is necessary I will go down myself. I’ve not been down for years now, but sooner than that scoundrel shall crow over me I’ll do all the diving myself.”

“There will be no necessity,” said Dutch, quickly.

“What do you mean?” exclaimed Mr Parkley.

“I will go with you myself,” said Dutch.

“What!” cried Mr Parkley, joyfully. “You? You go with me? My dear Pugh, I shall never forget this.”

He rose and grasped the young man’s hand with both of his own, and his face flushed with pleasure.

“Yes,” said Dutch, quietly, “I will go, and with old Rasp I think we can manage.”

“Manage!” cried Mr Parkley, “why, you are a host in yourself. But look here, my dear boy. Gentlemen, you will excuse us. Come on deck.”

He led the way, and Dutch followed him to the side of the schooner, where he took him by the button.

“I’m so grateful, Pugh,” he exclaimed, “you can’t think; but it won’t do. The business would be all right with another, but I can’t take you away.”

“Why not?” said Dutch, sharply.

“Your poor little wife, my boy, I could never look her in the face again.”

“For God’s sake don’t mention her,” cried Dutch, passionately. “There, there,” he cried, mastering himself, “you need not consider that.”

“But, my dear Pugh, are you not too hasty – too ready to believe? No, no, it won’t do, you misjudge her. I won’t let you go. In a few days all will be well again.”

“Parkley,” exclaimed Dutch, hoarsely, “it will never be all right again. I speak to you as I would speak to no other man. Heaven knows how I have loved that woman. But I have no home now. I shall never see her again.”

“No, no, no, don’t speak like that, my dear boy. You are too rush. Come, have patience, and all will be right. You shall not go.”

Dutch smiled bitterly.

“You are mad just now, but it will pass off; and look here, my dear boy, it was all my fault for getting you to take the cursed scoundrel in.”

“Don’t speak of it, pray,” cried Dutch.

“I must, my dear boy. Now, look here. After being guilty of one wrong to that poor little woman of yours, how can I do her another by taking her husband away?”

“I am no longer her husband, and she is no longer my wife,” said Dutch, sternly. “I tell you I shall go.”

“No, no; I will not let you.”

“I am your partner, and I shall insist upon it. Stay at home and let me take the lead in the expedition. You may trust me.”

“Better than I would myself,” said Mr Parkley, warmly.

“Then let me go. It will be a relief to me from the torture I have suffered these last weeks. Parkley, you cannot dream of what I have felt.”

“Do you really earnestly mean all this?” said Mr Parkley, gazing in the other’s troubled face.

“Mean it? Yes, it would be a real kindness.”

“Time cures all wounds,” said Mr Parkley, “so perhaps it will be best, and you will make arrangements for her while you are away.”

“She has the house,” said Dutch, bitterly, “and what money I have. I shall write to her mother to join her. Is that enough?”

Mr Parkley held out his hand, and the two men grasped each other’s for a moment, and then turned back to the cabin.

“Mr Pugh goes with us, Studwick; Rasp I know will come when he hears that Mr Pugh is with us.”

“Indeed,” said Dutch, “I should have thought not.”

“You’ll see,” said Mr Parkley, writing a few lines in his pocket-book and tearing off the leaf. “Now, then, about Rasp. Whom can we trust to take this ashore?”

“Let me go,” said Mr Meldon, the young doctor, “I will deliver it in safety.”

“You will?” cried Mr Parkley. “That’s well; but mind you don’t get tampered with, nor the man this is to fetch.”

Mr Meldon started, being rowed ashore in a boat they hailed. The captain was ready to suspect everyone now, but in an hour old Rasp come grumbling aboard, with a huge carpet bag, which dragged him into the boat in which he came off, and nearly pulled him back into it when he mounted the side.

“Oh, yes, I’ll go,” he said, as soon as he encountered his employers on the deck. “Hain’t got enough clean shirts, though. I allus thought that Tolly was good for nowt, and the forrener a bad un.”

“And now, Rasp, I want you to go ashore again for me,” said Dutch.

“I’ll take him with me,” said the captain, “and keep a sharp look-out. Mr Parkley is going too.”

“I don’t want no sharp look-outs,” said Rasp, gruffly. “I can take care o’ mysen’.”

Rasp’s mission was a simple one, namely, to purchase certain articles of outfit, for, with stern determination, the young man had set his face against revisiting his home. Moreover, as if distrustful of himself, he stayed on board, meaning to remain there for good.

The captain and mate both left for the shore, leaving Dutch in charge of the vessel, and so earnestly did they work that by nightfall they had secured six fresh men, and were hopeful of obtaining another half-dozen – all they required – by the following day.

The new-comers were of a rougher class than those who had been wiled away, but for all that they were sturdy, useful men, and, anxious as the leaders of the expedition were to start, it was no time for choosing.

That night, little thinking that every action in connection with the vessel had been closely watched with a powerful glass from the upper window of a house overlooking the estuary, Captain Studwick returned with the mate, taking the precaution to give the men plenty of liquor, and placing them under hatches for safety.

Rasp had long been back with the necessaries Dutch required, bringing with them a letter, which the young man read, tore to shreds, and then sent fluttering over the side; and at last the party, feeling hopeful of success on the morrow, retired for the night, saving such as had to keep watch.

The next day, however, brought no success; not a man of those unemployed could be induced to undertake the voyage, and to Captain Studwick’s great annoyance he found that by some means the whole business of the voyage had been turned into ridicule, and the men he addressed responded to his questions with a coarse burst of laughter. With the determination, then, of sailing the next morning with the crew he had, and putting in at Plymouth with the hope of obtaining more, he returned on board, and was in the act of relating his ill-success, when Oakum hailed a boat, pulled towards them by a couple of watermen, with half-a-dozen sailors in her stern.

It was growing dark, but those on deck could make out that the men had their long bolster-like kits with them, and the captain’s heart beat with joy as he heard, in answer to the hail, that the men had come from one of the sailors’ boarding-houses, having arrived there that afternoon.

“Simpson’s, on West Quay,” said one of the watermen. “He heerd you were looking out for hands, and he gave me this.”

He handed a up letter in which the boarding-house keeper asked for five pounds for securing the men and talking them into coming, and as the sailors came on deck, and proved quite willing to sign for the voyage, the money was paid and the boat pushed off.

They were not a handsome set of men, three being Englishmen, one a Dane, and the other two Lascars, one a long black-haired fellow, the other a short-haired, closely-shaven man, with a stoop, and a slight halt in one leg. He was nearly black, and did not look an attractive addition to the party; but the men declared he was an old ship-mate, and a good hand, evidently displaying an inclination, too, to refuse to go without him, so he was included.

“I think we can set our friend at defiance now,” said the captain, rubbing his hands as the men went below.

“I don’t know,” said Mr Parkley. “He’s one of those treacherous, cunning scoundrels that will steal a march on us when it is least expected. It’s a fine night, and not so very dark; the tide serves; so what do you say to dropping down at once, and putting a few miles of sea between us and our friend?”

“The very thing I should have proposed,” said the captain; “and, what’s more, I say make all sail for our port, in case our friend should charter a fresh vessel and be before us.”

“He would not get the divers.”

“No, perhaps not; but he might make up a party who could overhaul and plunder us. I shall not be happy till we are well on the way.”