he potent liquor, and
smarting with pain in his eyes.

I made one more desperate effort to free myself, and as Peter was
obliged to use his hands for the comfort of his eyes, I easily shook
him off this time. At the same instant the crack of the revolver
startled me; but I was not hit. Marian stood near me with a large
champagne bottle, from which she had poured the whiskey, in her hand. I
seized it, and sprang upon Mr. Whippleton as he aimed his pistol at me
the second time.

I struck him a heavy blow upon the head with the bottle, and he fell
back into the cabin.

My strength seemed to come back, as the prospect brightened before me.
I descended to the cabin, and proceeded to ascertain the condition of
Mr. Whippleton.

"Is he dead?" gasped Marian.

"No; I think not," as I felt of his pulse, and then of his breast to
see if his heart still beat.

"O, I hope not," cried she, terrified at the tragedy of which she had
become a part.

"Gorrificious!" howled Peter, who had been washing his eyes at the
side, and was now able to use them again.

I picked up Mr. Whippleton's pistol, and returned to the standing-room,
to guard against any attack on the part of the cook.

"Don't shoot me, Mr. Phil, don't!" cried he.

"I won't, if you behave yourself; but if you don't obey all my orders,
I will put a bullet through your head. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you, Mr. Phil. 'Tain't none of my quarrel, and I don't care
nothing at all about it. I obeys orders whoever is in command," he
replied, rubbing his eyes with his handkerchief.

[Illustration: SKIPPER WHIPPLETON A PRISONER. Page 301.]

With his aid I lifted the form of Mr. Whippleton from the cabin floor,
and we bore it to the seat in the standing-room, where I had lain so
many hours. The Marian had come up into the wind when the cook left the
helm, and I put her about, heading her to the south-west. Miss
Collingsby took the helm at my request. She was pale and excited; but
she was firm. For my own part I felt like new man, and the new order of
things seemed to soothe the pain I was still suffering.

I examined Mr. Whippleton very carefully again. I felt the beatings of
his heart, and I was satisfied that he was not more severely injured
than I had been.

I did not intend to make any more mistakes, and with the same cord
which had confined my hands, I tied his wrists together behind him. I
secured his feet, and made him fast to the jib-sheet cleat. He was now
in