of the light growing stronger, there was no
sign of the brig, and, worse still, everything looked so distorted and
hazy, not one familiar object to enable them to judge of their position.

"It's just like looking through a big magnifying glass," whispered
Oliver, "at the point when everything is upside down and distorted from
being out of focus."

"Perhaps so," said Drew, "but we're not looking through a magnifying
glass."

"I wonder that you, a man who is always using a microscope, should talk
like that," replied Oliver. "We are not looking through a glass,
certainly, but we are piercing a dull transparent medium, caused by
water in the form of mist floating in the air. I don't want to be
conceited, but my idea was quite right."

"Quite," said Panton, "only this is not a good time for studying optics.
What we want is knowledge that shall bring us to the brig without being
shot at by our friends."

"Hear that, Tommy," whispered Wriggs. "We're going to be shot at now in
front by Muster Rimmer and the others, while the savages shoots at us
behind."

"Well, if we can't help it, Billy, what's the use o' grumbling?"
returned his mate.

"'Cause I've got this here ladder. What's the good of a ladder when
you're being shot at?"

"None as I sees, Billy."

"'Course not. Now, if it had been a good stout plank, there'd be some
sense in it."

"What, you'd shove it behind yer when the niggers was shooting harrers?"
said Smith, thoughtfully.

"O' course."

"And afore yer when Muster Rimmer was lettin' go with his revolver or a
gun."

"Right you are, mate. That's it."

"Might keep off a harrer," said Smith, thoughtfully, "but bullets would
go through it like they would through a bar o' soap."

"Yah, that's where you allers haggravates me, Tommy. I knows you're
cleverer than I am, but sometimes you do talk so soft."

"What d'yer mean?"

"I mean what's the good o' you hargying whether a bullet would go
through a thick plank or whether it wouldn't, when it's on'y a split
pole and so many wooden spells. Don't you see it ain't a board but on'y
a ladder; and I'm sick on it, that I am."

"Then let me carry it."

"Sharn't!"

"Will you two men be quiet?" said Oliver in a sharp whisper. "Do you
want to betray our whereabouts to the enemy?"

"It aren't me, sir, it's Tommy Smith keeps a-haggrywating like."

"I aren't, sir! it's Billy Wriggs a-going on about that ladder as he's
got to carry."

"Well, it i