an earnest conversation. A fourth person--Almanza--who was at that
moment the subject of their conversation, was lying in the captain's
stateroom, immediately beneath them; the rest of the gang were idling
about on the main or fore decks smoking their inevitable cigarettes, and
waiting till the Levantine "Ryan," whom they now recognised as leader,
called them to hear the result of the discussion.

The Chileno, who was seated with Ryan and Foster, was named Rivas, and
had recommended himself to them by reason of his ferocious and merciless
disposition. Long before the mutiny occurred he, with the Greeks, had
insisted upon the necessity of murdering not only the captain, first
officer, steward, and all the English seamen, but Mrs. Marston as
well. Almanza, however, protested so strenuously that they reluctantly
consented not to resort to murder, if it could possibly be avoided; but
their lust for slaughter was too great to be controlled when Villari
made his gallant attempt to aid his captain.

On the top of the skylight was spread a chart, at which Ryan was
looking, trying to find out as near as he could the ship's position.
He could read English, and easily recognised the islands of Apolima and
Manono, both of which were shown on the chart.

"That is where we are now, or about there," he said, taking a pencil in
his hand and making a mark on the spot. "But we are drifting towards the
reefs, and must anchor once we get into soundings--or else go ashore."

"Do you think he is going to die?" inquired Rivas, with a gesture
towards the cabin.

"How can I tell, comrade?" replied the Greek with an angry snarl. "Only
that we want him badly to navigate the ship, it would be best for us if
he does die--for two reasons."

His fellow-scoundrels nodded assent. The two reasons they knew were,
firstly, that Almanza had proved to be too timorous as regarded the
taking of life, and secondly that his death would give them a greater
share of plunder.

"Well, what are we to do?" asked Rivas.

"What can we do?" exclaimed Foster fiercely, as he shook his
black-haired, greasy and ear-ringed head. "We must wait and see if he
gets better--unless we drift ashore in the night and get our throats cut
by los Indios over there," and he indicated the islands.

"Bah!" growled his countryman. "Did I not tell you that I heard the
captain say over and over again that these people are not savages? But
what we do want is a breeze, so that we can