tened into the saloon, and,
encountering the steward, gave orders for the preparation of a
substantial luncheon basket, after which he apprised Sibylla of his
proposed expedition.

Accordingly, as soon as breakfast was over, the two young people set off
in the dinghy, Sibylla being seated in the stern-sheets, with the yoke-
lines in her hands and the lunch basket at her feet, whilst Ned faced
her, handling the diminutive oars--or "paddles," as the seamen termed
them--without an effort. That he had not been unmindful of possible
dangers was evidenced by the fact that that he had recommended Sibylla
to take with her both her revolvers and a goodly supply of ammunition,
whilst, as for himself, he was a perfect walking battery, a pair of
revolvers and a small hatchet being stuck into his ammunition belt,
whilst a ship's carbine reposed peacefully in the bows on the coiled-up
painter of the boat.

Early as Ned and Sibylla were in leaving the ship, the mutineers had got
the start of them, and, observing that the rest of the boats were making
for the east and south islands, Ned determined to give them a wide
berth, and accordingly paddled away for the north island, which was the
largest in the group. He headed for a small strip of sandy beach which
he had noticed during the examination of the harbour on the previous
day, and after a leisurely pull of more than an hour across the placid
waters of the basin beached the boat.

Ned was by nature a keenly observant young gentleman, and the first fact
which attracted his attention on landing was that the water in the basin
was at exactly the same height on the beach as when they had passed it
some hours later on the previous day, from which he at once arrived at
the conclusion--afterwards proved to be correct--that there was
practically no tide in Refuge Harbour, as Williams at once named the
place. But to obviate all possibility of the dinghy being swept away he
not only dragged her half her length up high and dry upon the beach, but
also planted one of the paddles firmly in the sand and then made fast
the painter to it. This done, the lunch basket was stowed carefully
away in the shade under the stern-sheets, when, loading and shouldering
his carbine, Ned strolled along at an easy pace, so that Sibylla could
walk beside him without much apprehension, the beach nowhere showing any
footprints, as Ned believed it surely would have done had the place been
inhabited.

They str