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did you know?" they asked.

      "Never mind; I somehow got the idea."

      "And he thinks that by championing the nigger he can kill two birds, see?"

      "I see," I said. "I'm sorry I didn't nab him while I had him."

      "Never mind," they rejoined; "if you stick to your present object, you're bound to meet him again and soon. Only take a word of advice. Have a few guns with you, for you're liable to need them. We're not afraid about nabbing the whole bunch; but we don't want to lose good men going after a bad man. And there's such a thing as having too much courage."

      "I agree," I remarked. "I'll take the guns all right, but I'm afraid I'll need some more crew. I mean I'll want an engineer, and another deck-hand."

      And, just as I said this, there came up some one post-haste from the village; some one, too, that wanted the clergyman, as well as me, for my captain was ill, and at the point of death.

      It was an hour or so after dinner time, and we were just enjoying our cigars.

      "What on earth can be the trouble?" I said, but, the three of us, including the Commandant went.

      We found the captain lying in his berth, writhing with cramps.

      "What on earth have you been doing with yourself, Cap.?" I asked.

      "I did nothing, sir, but eat my dinner, and drink that claret you were kind enough to give me."

      "That half-bottle of claret?"

      "Yes, sir, the very same."

      "Well, there was nothing to hurt you in that," I said. "Did you take it half and half with water, as I told you?"

      "I did indeed, sir."

      "And what did you eat for your dinner?"

      "Some pigeon-peas, and some rainbow fish."

      "Sure, nothing else?"

      "God's truth, sir."

      "It's very funny," I said. And then as he began to writhe and stiffen, I called out to Tom: "Get some rum, Tom, and make it boiling hot, quick—quick!"

      And Tom did.

      "We must get him into a sweat."

      Very soon we did. Then I said to Tom:

      "What do you make out of this smell that's coming from him, Tom?"

      "Kerosene, sar," said Tom.

      "I thought the very same," I said.

      Tom beckoned me to go with him to the galley, and showed me several quart bottles of water standing on a shelf.

      "Two of these were kerosene," he said, "and I suppose Cap. made a mistake"; for one looked as clear as the other.

      Then I took one of them back to the captain.

      "Was it a bottle like this you mixed with the claret?" I asked.

      "Sure it was, sir," he answered, writhing hard with the cramps.

      "But my God, man!" I said. "Couldn't you tell the difference between that and water?"

      "I thought it tasted funny, boss, but I wasn't used to claret."

      And then we had to laugh again, and I thought old Tom would die.

      "A nigger's stomach and his head," said the Commandant, "are about the same. I really don't know which is the stronger."

      And Tom started laughing so that I believe, if the wind had been blowing that way, you could have heard him in Nassau.

      The captain didn't die, though he came pretty near to it. In fact, he took so long getting on his feet, that we couldn't wait for him; so we had practically to look out for a new crew, with the exception of Tom, and Sailor. The Commandant proved a good friend to us in this, choosing three somewhat characterless men, with good "characters."

      "I cannot guarantee them," he said; "that's impossible, but, so far as I know, and the parson'll bear me out, they're all quiet, good-living men. The engineer's in love, and got it bad; he is engaged to be married, and is all the gladder of the good pay you're offering—more than usually comes their way—and that always keeps a man straight, at least until after he's married."

      The Commandant was a splendid fellow, and he had a knowledge of human nature that was almost Shakespearean, particularly when you considered the few and poor specimens he had to study it by.

      As we said good-bye, with a spanking southwest breeze blowing, I could see that he was a little anxious about me.

      "Take care of yourself," he said, "for you must remember none of us can take care of you. There's no settlement where you're going—no telegraph or wireless; you could be murdered, and none of us hear of it for a month, or for ever. And the fellows you're after are a dangerous lot, take my word for it. Keep a good watch on your guns, and we'll be on the look out for the first news of you, and anything we can do we'll be there, you bet."

      And so the Maggie Darling once more bared her whiteness to the breeze, and the world seemed once more a great world.

      "It's good to be alive, Tom," I said, "on a day like this, though we get killed to-morrow."

      Tom agreed to this, so did Sailor; and so, I felt, did the Maggie Darling, the loveliest, proud-sailed creature that ever leaned over and laughed in the grasp of the breeze.

      Chapter VII

       Table of Contents

      In Which the Sucking Fish Has a Chance to Show Its Virtue.

      The breeze was so strong that we didn't use our engine that day. Besides, I wanted to take a little time thinking over my plans. I spent most of the time studying the charts and pondering John P. Tobias's narrative, which threw very little light on the situation. There was little definite to go by but his mark of the compass engraven on a certain rock in a wilderness of rocks; and such rocks as they were at that.

      As I thought of that particular kind of rock, I wondered too about my three friends, trussed like fowls, on their coral rock couches. Of course they had long since cut each other free, and were somewhere active and evil-doing; and the thought of their faces seemed positively sweet to me, for of such faces are made "the bright face of danger" that all men are born to love.

      Still the thought of that set me thinking too of my defences. I looked well to my guns. The Commandant had made me accept the loan of a particularly expert revolver that was, I could see, as the apple of his eye. He must have cared for me a great deal to have lent it me, and it was bright as the things we love.

      Then I called Tom to me: "How about that sucking fish, Tom?" I asked.

      "It's just cured, sar," he said. "I was going to offer it to you this lunch time. It's dried out fine; couldn't be better. I'll bring it to you this minute." And he went and was back again in a moment. "You must wear it right over your heart," he said, "and you'll see there's not a bullet can get near it. It's never been known for a bullet to go through a sucking fish. Even if they come near, something in the air seems to send them aside. It's God's truth."

      "But, Tom," I said, "how about you?"

      "I've worn one here, sar, for twenty years, and you can see for yourself"—and he bared the brown chest beneath which beat the heart that like nothing else in the world has made me believe in God.

      And so we went spinning along, and, if only I had the gift of words, I could make such pictures of the islands we sailed by, the colours of the waters, the joy of our going—the white coral sand beaches and the big cocoanut palms leaning over them, and the white surges that curled along and along the surf reef, over and over again, running like children to meet each other and join each other's hands, or like piano keys rippling white under some master's fingers.

      That night we made a good lee, and lay

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