LITMIR.BIZ

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for a miracle.

      “You’d better get below again,” said Joe presently.

      “There seems to be somebody moving below; and if the skipper sees you, you’re done. He’s a regular Tartar, and he’s got a brother what’s a sergeant-major in the army. He’d give you up d’rectly if he spotted you.”

      “I’m off,” said Smith; and with long, cat-like strides he disappeared swiftly below.

      For two days all went well, and Dan was beginning to congratulate himself upon his little venture, when his peace of mind was rudely disturbed. The crew were down below, having their tea, when Billy, who had been to the galley for hot water, came down, white and scared.

      “Look here,” he said nervously, “I’ve not had anything to do with this chap being aboard, have I?”

      “What’s the matter?” inquired Dan quickly.

      “It’s all found out,” said Billy.

      “WHAT!” cried the crew simultaneously.

      “Leastways, it will be,” said the youth, correcting himself. “You’d better chuck him overboard while you’ve got time. I heard the cap’n tell the mate as he was coming down in the fo’c’sle to-morrow morning to look round. He’s going to have it painted.”

      “This,” said Dan, in the midst of a painful pause, “this is what comes of helping a fellow-creature. What’s to be done?”

      “Tell the skipper the fo’c’sle don’t want painting,” suggested Billy.

      The agonised old seaman, carefully putting down his saucer of tea, cuffed his head spitefully.

      “It’s a smooth sea,” said he, looking at the perturbed countenance of Private Smith, “‘an there’s a lot of shipping about. If I was a deserter, sooner than be caught, I would slip overboard to-night with a lifebelt and take my chance.”

      “I wouldn’t,” said Mr. Smith, with much decision.

      “You wouldn’t? Not if you was quite near another ship?” cooed Dan.

      “Not if I was near fifty blooming ships, all trying to see which could pick me up first,” replied Mr. Smith, with some heat.

      “Then we shall have to leave you to your fate,” said Dan solemnly. “If a man’s unreasonable, his best friends can do nothing for him.”

      “Chuck all his clothes overboard, anyway,” said Billy.

      “That’s a good idea o’ the boy’s. You leave his ears alone,” said Joe, stopping the ready hand of the exasperated Dan. “He’s got more sense than any of us. Can you think of anything else, Billy? What shall we do then?”

      The eyes of all were turned upon their youthful deliverer, those of Mr. Smith being painfully prominent. It was a proud moment for Billy, and he sat silent for some time, with a look of ineffable wisdom and thought upon his face. At length he spoke.

      “Let somebody else have a turn,” he said generously.

      The voice of the antimacassar worker broke the silence.

      “Paint him all over with stripes of different-coloured paint, and let him pretend he’s mad, and didn’t know how he got here,” he said, with an uncontrollable ring of pride at the idea, which was very coldly received, Private Smith being noticeably hard on it.

      “I know,” said Billy shrilly, clapping his hands. “I’ve got it, I ‘ve got it. After he’s chucked his clothes overboard to-night, let him go overboard too, with a line.”

      “And tow him the rest o’ the way, and chuck biscuits to him, I suppose,” snarled Dan.

      “No,” said the youthful genius scornfully; “pretend he’s been upset from a boat, and has been swimming about, and we heard him cry out for help and rescued him.”

      “It’s about the best way out of it,” said Joe, after some deliberation; “it’s warm weather, and you won’t take no harm, mate. Do it in my watch, and I’ll pull you out directly.”

      “Wouldn’t it do if you just chucked a bucket of water over me and SAID you’d pulled me out,” suggested the victim. “The other thing seems a downright LIE.”

      “No,” said Billy authoritatively, “you’ve got to look half-drowned, and swallow a lot of water, and your eyes be all bloodshot.”

      Everybody being eager for the adventure, except Private Smith, the arrangements were at once concluded, and the approach of night impatiently awaited. It was just before midnight when Smith, who had forgotten for the time his troubles in sleep, was shaken into wakefulness.

      “Cold water, sir?” said Billy gleefully.

      In no mood for frivolity, Private Smith rose and followed the youth on deck. The air struck him as chill as he stood there; but, for all that, it was with a sense of relief that he saw Her Majesty’s uniform go over the side and sink into the dark water.

      “He don’t look much with his padding off, does he?” said Billy, who had been eyeing him critically.

      “You go below,” said Dan sharply.

      “Garn,” said Billy indignantly; “I want to see the fun as well as you do. I thought of it.”

      “Fun?” said the old man severely. “Fun? To see a feller creature suffering, and perhaps drowned—”

      “I don’t think I had better go,” said the victim; “it seems rather underhand.”

      “Yes, you will,” said Joe. “Wind this line round an’ round your arm, and just swim about gently till I pull you in.”

      Sorely against his inclination Private Smith took hold of the line, and, hanging over the side of the schooner, felt the temperature with his foot, and, slowly and tenderly, with many little gasps, committed his body to the deep. Joe paid out the line and waited, letting out more line, when the man in the water, who was getting anxious, started to come in hand over hand.

      “That’ll do,” said Dan at length.

      “I think it will,” said Joe, and, putting his hand to his mouth, gave a mighty shout. It was answered almost directly by startled roars from the cabin, and the skipper and mate came rushing hastily upon deck, to see the crew, in their sleeping gear, forming an excited group round Joe, and peering eagerly over the side.

      “What’s the matter?” demanded the skipper.

      “Somebody in the water, sir,” said Joe, relinquishing the wheel to one of the other seamen, and hauling in the line. “I heard a cry from the water and threw a line, and, by gum, I’ve hooked it!”

      He hauled in, lustily aided by the skipper, until the long white body of Private Smith, blanched with the cold, came bumping against the schooner’s side.

      “It’s a mermaid,” said the mate, who was inclined to be superstitious, as he peered doubtfully down at it. “Let it go, Joe.”

      “Haul it in, boys,” said the skipper impatiently; and two of the men clambered over the side and, stooping down, raised it from the water.

      In the midst of a puddle, which he brought with him, Private Smith was laid on the deck, and, waving his arms about, fought wildly for his breath.

      “Fetch one of them empties,” said the skipper quickly, as he pointed to some barrels ranged along the side.

      The men rolled one over, and then aided the skipper in placing the long fair form of their visitor across it, and to trundle it lustily up and down the deck, his legs forming convenient handles for the energetic operators.

      “He’s coming round,” said the mate, checking them; “he’s speaking. How do you feel, my poor fellow?”

      He put his ear down, but the action was unnecessary. Private Smith felt bad, and, in the plainest English he could think of at the moment, said so distinctly.

      “He’s swearing,” said the mate. “He ought to be ashamed

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