s of their
engine-room; the broken parts of the engine had been repaired or
refitted, and a throb of life had returned to the machinery. In its
first revolution the screw touched the stern of a pirate-boat and turned
it upside down. Another boat at the bow was run over. The crews of
both swam away like ducks, with their long knives between their teeth.
The other boats hauled off.

"Now, captain," cried Robin Wright, who, during the whole time, had
stood as if transfixed, with a cutlass in one hand, a pistol in the
other, and his mouth, not to mention his eyes, wide open; "Now, captain,
we shall get away without shedding a drop of blood!"

"Yes," replied the captain, "but not without inflicting punishment.
Port your helm--hard a port!"

"Port it is, sir--hard over," replied the man at the wheel, and away
went the steamer with a grand circular sweep which speedily brought her,
bow-on, close to the pirate vessel.

"Steady--so!" said the captain, at the same time signalling "full steam"
to the engine-room.

The space between the two vessels quickly decreased. The part of the
pirate crew which had been left on board saw and understood. With a
howl of consternation, every man sprang into the sea. Next moment their
vessel was cut almost in two and sent fathoms down into the deep, whence
it rose a limp and miserable remnant, flattened out upon the waves.

"Now," observed the captain, with a pleasant nod, "we'll leave them to
get home the best way they can. A boat voyage in such fine weather in
these latitudes will do them good."

Saying which, he resumed his course, and steamed away into the regions
of the far East.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

TELLS OF A SUDDEN AND UNLOOKED-FOR EVENT.

How often it has been said, "Good for man that he does not know what
lies before him." If he did we fear he would face his duty with very
different feelings from those which usually animate him. Certain it is
that if Robin Wright and Sam Shipton had known what was before them--
when they stood one breezy afternoon on the ship's deck, casting glances
of admiration up at the mountain waves of the southern seas, or taking
bird's-eye views of the valleys between them--their eyes would not have
glistened with such flashes of delight, for the fair prospects they
dreamed of were not destined to be realised.

What these prospects were was made plain by their conversation.

"Won't it be a splendid opportunity, Sam, to become acquainted