es, and they thought it must
have been you. I heard some one accuse you in the dark, just after I
had broken out of my cabin."

I was silent for a few moments, as I thought of whom the traitor must
have been, though even to defend myself I could not speak out and accuse
Walters.

"Who was it said I did it?" I whispered at last.

"I am not sure. Everything has been so dark and confused; I fancied for
the moment that it was Mr Denning."

"I don't believe it was," I said stoutly. "He would not think I could
be such a miserable, contemptible wretch."

"But you were not with us, Dale, and people are ready enough to accuse
at a time like that."

"Mr Denning did not accuse him," said a weak voice, and there close by
us stood Mr Denning himself, looking almost ghastly in the pale morning
light which stole into the cabin. "Alison Dale could not be such a
scoundrel."

"Thank you, Mr Denning," I said, grasping the hand he held out to me,
as with the other he supported himself by resting, as I saw, upon a
double-barrelled gun. "I shan't defend myself. If I had been the
traitor, I should not be here now. I didn't think I could manage it."

I was eagerly questioned, and had to explain how I escaped, and to tell
all that I knew of the attack, and as I spoke I could not help noticing
how distant Mr Frewen and Mr Denning seemed, and I thought that now we
were in such trouble they would perhaps become friends.

I had another surprise before I had told all about my escape, for from
out of one of the cabins, looking horrible with his head tied up by a
stained handkerchief, Mr Brymer appeared, and I saw that he was
evidently weak and faint from his wound.

"Can you tell us anything about who is at the head of the mutiny?" he
asked. "I was cut down, and could hardly understand anything in the
darkness, till I seemed to wake and find myself on the saloon-floor,
below the table where I must have crawled."

I told him that Jarette was at the head of it all.

"Ah, I always mistrusted that man, and the gang he gathered about him.
Where is the rest of the crew then; I mean those they did not kill--down
in the forecastle?"

I was silent for a few moments, and he repeated his question.

"I'm afraid they have all joined him."

"No, no; not men like Hampton and Dumlow. They were of a different
stamp."

I told him what I knew, and I heard him grind his teeth.

"The scoundrels!" he muttered.

"There is no telling what a