id they send?"

Bob Hampton chuckled.

"Why, you know, sir."

"Not Mr Walters?"

"If you was to spend all the rest o' your life, sir, making shots at it,
you wouldn't never get nigher than that."

"The young scoundrel! Then you know where the cartridges are?"

"Course I do, sir: under the battened down hatches yonder. Frenchy put
'em there himself, and wouldn't let no one go nigh 'em, 'cause the
fellows were always smoking. I got down to 'em at night when the storm
was coming, as you know, and when you want more, there they are,--yer
pistols and guns too."

"Oh, that puts quite a different complexion upon our position, Mr
Denning. We can fire as much as we like," cried the mate. "But one
word more, Hampton. What about the mutineers? Have they a very large
supply of ammunition?"

"Well, sir, that I can't say. I know Jarette always kep' his pockets
jam-full, but I don't know nothing about the others."

The chopping was still going on while this discussion took place, and
shot after shot was fired, evidently in a blind fashion, as if the man
who used the revolver was unable to take an aim at any one, and merely
fired to keep us away from the hatch; but now all at once we were
startled by a sharp jingling of glass, and the violent swinging of one
of the lanterns, which had been struck by a bullet.

"That was the result of some one aiming," cried Mr Denning, sharply.

"If they don't do any more damage than that it won't matter," said Mr
Preddle.

"Look here, Brymer," whispered Mr Frewen, speaking now after carefully
watching the dimly-seen hatch for some minutes, "it strikes me that if
you let them go on firing for a little longer they will be forced to
surrender."

"For want of ammunition?" said the mate.

"No; for want of air. That ventilator will not carry off the foul gas
from the firing."

"But the holes they are making will," said the mate. "If it were not so
dark you would see that the smoke is curling out from several little
holes."

Mr Frewen took a step forward; there was a sharp report, and he
staggered back. "Flit?" cried Mr Preddle, excitedly. "Yes, but not
hurt," replied Mr Frewen. "The bullet struck my collar, and it was
like something giving me a violent jerk."

"Change positions every one," said Mr Brymer in a low voice. "Hampton,
the lanterns. Let them both down, and put them in the galley."

Bob Hampton ran to one line by which they were hoisted up, I to the
other; a