I

A VISIT FROM SHORE

In the meantime Abram Storms was acting the part of a vigilant
sentinel at his station on deck.

There was no doubt in his mind that the mutineers were fearful the
schooner would sail away and leave them on the lonely coral island,
and they were certain, as he viewed it, to make some effort to prevent
such a disaster to them. But precisely how this was to be done was a
serious question. They knew that the captain, having reached the
_Coral_, had several rifles at command, and would not hesitate to
shoot them the instant any attempt was made against him or little
Inez, under his charge.

Nothing was more certain than that an unremitting watch would be kept
upon the _Coral_, and, though they might believe there was but the
single man there, yet unquestionably he commanded the situation.

"They will try some trick," muttered the mate; "but I shall have a
very small opinion of myself if they win. Pomp Cooper's affection for
Inez led him to interfere, when his interference accomplished a good
deal more than he imagined. Ah!"

At that moment the mate heard a ghostly "Halloo!" from the shore, and
he recognized the voice as belonging to Pomp.

"Just as I suspected," said Storms, to himself; "they're using the
negro as a cat's-paw. Well, I'll see what they are driving at."

Imitating the tones of Captain Bergen as closely as possible, the mate
shouted:

"What do you want?"

"Am you dere?" was the rather superfluous question.

"Yes."

"Won't you let me come on board?"

"What for?"

"I'm sick ob dis business. I hab quarreled wid Redvig an' Brazzier,
an' I want to jine you an' git away from dis place."

Abe Storms was not deceived for a moment by this transparent story. He
knew there had been no quarrel, but that the mutineers had planned to
get the negro on the schooner with the hope of deceiving the captain
and gaining a chance to overpower him when off his guard.

"Come on out here, then," replied the mate, who quickly determined his
course of action.

Almost at the same instant a loud splash was heard, and the head of
Pomp was descried in the moonlight, swimming toward the boat. The mate
kept himself concealed as much as he could, stepping back when the
negro began clambering up the fore-chains. Panting from his exertion,
he speedily came over the gunwale upon the deck.

"Yes, cap'in, I's tired ob dem willains, an' I'm gwine----Oh! oh!
oh!"

At that instant his eyes fell upon