with his lips close to
Mark's ear.

"Silence, Mr Howlett!" cried the captain, sternly. "Now, Dance, the
names?"

"Beg pardon, your honour, but there was only one dip a-going in the
lantern, and it didn't give light enough to tell which was your right
hand and which was your left."

"The names, sir!" cried the captain, as once more there was the sound of
a deep breath.

"Couldn't give yer one of 'em, sir, unless it was Tom Fillot."

"Hah! Stand out, sir."

"Why, I was taking my trick at the wheel, your honour," cried Tom
Fillot, in tones of protest.

"So you was, messmet," growled Dance; "so you was. There, your honour,"
he continued, turning to the captain, "you see how dark it were."

"Try again, sir," said the captain, sternly.

"Dick Bannock," said Dance.

"Which I were o' dooty in my watch, mate," cried the man.

"Ay, so you was, messmet. No, your honour, it were too dark. P'r'aps,"
he added, cunningly, "one o' the blacks knows."

Here there was a murmur.

"Silence!" cried the captain, sternly. "I'm afraid I shall have to
recall this as a mark against you, Dance, when the time comes for
promotion. It is very plain, sir, that you do know, and will not speak.
Hark here, my lads, I am going to pass this over. I cannot punish two
ignorant, half-savage men for resenting a cruel attack upon them--cruel
and cowardly. Go below now, and show me in the future that you have too
much common sense to play such boys' tricks again. Let the two blacks
step out."

Efforts were made to induce the two Africans to advance, but without
avail.

"Now, are those men coming aft?" said the captain, sternly; but there
was only a buzzing sound below, and something extremely like a scuffle.

"Beg pardon, sir; they don't understand," said Bob Howlett. "They'd
come up if I spoke to 'em."

"Then go down and send them aft--or no," said the captain, impatiently.
"I want them to understand that they are pardoned, but that there must
be no violence again. There, that's enough, Mr Staples. Pipe the men
below."

"And that's an end of it," whispered Bob Howlett, as soon as the captain
was out of hearing. "I say, Van, wasn't old Joe Dance a trump?"

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE ENEMY ONCE MORE.

"All this time sailing here and there," said Mark one day, "and not done
a bit of good."

"Do you hear that, Mr Whitney?" cried Bob. "There's gratitude, when it
has been just as if we were under orders to keep at sea so