picture his fancy painted of
his father and mother being left at the mercy of the Malays once more
grew dim.

"What shall we do, then, next?--go west?"

"No, sir, I think north," replied Gregory. "There isn't a breath of
air, so we cannot have gone far. What say, Morgan?"

"The tide may have taken her many miles," said the second-mate, speaking
painfully; "but try north."

The first-mate was about to whisper to the men to easy on the port side
when all at once there was a flash at a distance, followed by a sharp
report.

"From the ship," said Gregory. "A signal."

"No, no," said Morgan peevishly. "That is from the shore."

"Oh, impossible!" said the major. "That shot was fired from the ship."

Another flash, evidently from half-a-mile away in quite a different
direction.

"That is from the ship," whispered Morgan as the report of the gun went
vibrating through the dark night air.

"No, no, man; from the shore," said the major pettishly.

"I stake my life, sir, it is from the ship," said Morgan, straining his
eyes in the direction from which the last signal had been made.

"Morgan's right, major," said Gregory firmly.

"Yes; that there last shot was from seaward," whispered the boatswain.
"I haven't not no doubt about that."

"Steady, my lads, and give way now," whispered Gregory; and the boat was
turned and rowed steadily for quite a quarter of an hour as nearly as
they could tell in the direction from which the last shot had come.

At the end of that time, though, they were as badly off, it seemed, as
ever, for they ceased rowing, to find that the darkness was more dense,
for a soft mist was gathering overhead and blotting out the stars.

"If we only dared hail," muttered Gregory. "Major, this is horrible.
Pst!"

This was consequent upon a faint flash of light appearing not twenty
yards away; then it seemed as if there was a tiny flame burning, and
directly after complete darkness.

"The _Petrel_ or a prau," said Mr Gregory in a low voice, and with his
lips to the major's ear.

"The ship," said Mark excitedly, striking in.

"How do you know, lad?"

"By the height up."

"You're right, boy; so it is."

"And there," said Mark softly, "it was someone lighting a cigar."

"Yes; I can smell it. But hist!"

"It was my father," said Mark excitedly. "I know what he's doing:
smoking at the cabin-window."

"May be," whispered back the mate cautiously. "Here, pull that
starboard oar, Smal