nal from the chief conspirator, the slide was drawn and the fore
hatchway covered up, thus making Paul and the steward prisoners below.

"What does that mean?" said Paul.

"I don't know; some mischief, I suppose," replied Dick. "They are
playing off a trick upon us."

"We are prisoners, anyhow," continued Paul, glancing at the closed
hatchway.

"All the same to me; don't mind them at all, and they will soon get sick
of the fun."

"But what are they about?" added Paul, as he heard the creak of the
windlass on deck. "I'm afraid they are up to some serious mischief."

"Can't help it; 'tain't my fault, and I never meddle with what don't
concern me. All I got to do is to cook the victuals, and take care of
the cabin."

Dick was utterly indifferent in regard to the conspirators, and went on
scraping his potatoes, as though nothing unusual was in progress. As
long as they had not carried off his cooking stove, or separated him
from the ice chest, he was perfectly contented, and undoubtedly would
call all hands to supper at the proper time, precisely as though
everything was proceeding in a proper and regular manner on board the
Flyaway. Dick prided himself upon minding his own business; and if the
yacht had been seized by a gang of West India buccaneers, his culinary
operations would have proceeded with their accustomed order and
promptness.

It was not so with Paul; for the creaking of the windlass, and the
activity that seemed to be manifested on deck, had already suggested to
him a suspicion in regard to the purpose of the crew. He was not long
left in doubt, for the sounds from above soon indicated that a portion
of the conspirators were hoisting the mainsail. But he found it very
difficult to accept the conclusion that these indications forced upon
him. The boys on deck were certainly getting the yacht in readiness to
sail; yet it seemed scarcely credible to him that they intended to run
away with her. A scheme so bold and wicked passed his comprehension, and
he was not prepared to believe that even Tom and Frank had the hardihood
to carry it out. But the evidences were fast increasing; he heard the
voice of Tom Nettle, as he stood at the helm, issuing his orders with as
much assurance as though he had been regularly placed in authority.

Presently he heard the anchor strike against the hawse-hole, and the jib
rattling up the stay. He could no longer cherish a hope that their
purpose was less criminal than he h