n the following morning he was liberated, and in a
week's time he had recovered the use of his foot. Then, when the barque
was off the Tonga Islands, a large "pod" of whales were sighted. It
was a clear, warm day. The sea was as smooth as a lake, and only the
faintest air was ruffling the surface of the water. Three miles away
were two small, low-lying islands, clad with coco-palms, their white
belting of beach glistening like iridescent pearl-shell under the
glowing tropic sun.

As the boats were lowered he said to Frewen, "You know what I have said,
sir. I won't lift a harpoon again on this cruise; so don't ask me."

Frewen did not believe him. "Don't be a fool, Randall. We'll show the
old man something to-day."

"_I_ will, sir, if it costs me my life."

Five minutes later he was in his old place on the for'ard thwart,
pulling stolidly, but looking intently at Frewen, whom he loved with a
dog-like affection.

Frewen singled out a large bull whale which was lying quite apart from
the rest of the "pod" sunning himself, and sometimes rolling lazily
from side to side, oblivious of danger. In another five minutes the boat
would have been within striking distance.

"Stand up, Randall," he said.

The half-caste peaked and socketed his oar, and looked at the officer.

"I refuse, sir," he said quietly.

"Then come aft here," cried Frewen quickly, with hot anger in his tones.

"No, sir, I will not. I said I would neither lift iron nor steer a boat
again," was the dogged reply.

There was no time to lose. Giving the steer oar to the man pulling the
"after-tub oar," the officer sprang forward and picked up the harpoon
just in time, Randall jumping aft smartly enough, and taking the tub
man's oar. Ten seconds later Frewen had buried his harpoon up to the
socket in the whale, and the line was humming as the boat tore through
the water. Then, still keeping his place, he let the whole of one tub
of line run out, and then hauled up on it and lanced and killed his fish
quietly. Cheyne apparently took no notice, though his heart sank within
him when Frewen came aft again, and looked at him with mingled anger and
reproach.

Some one of the boat's crew talked of what had occurred, though Frewen
said nothing; and that night Cheyne was placed in irons by Keller's
orders. At the end of a week he was still manacled and almost starving,
but he steadfastly refused to do boatsteerer's duty. Then the captain
no longer placed any ch