et to work unscrewing Jerry's
helmet. At first he felt some fear lest the old man had come to some
harm, so motionless did he lie; but as he got the helmet unscrewed he
heard Jerry's voice proceeding from within, and no sooner had he helped
the quartermaster to sit up, gasping and blinking, than his fears were
quite allayed.

"Ho!" cried Jerry, with wild triumph on his face as he flung back his
white hair. "She's there, mates, she's there! Eight fathom down she is,
and no Pirate Shark neither! Old Jerry found her, he did--eh? What--"

In his first transports the quartermaster had not observed that his
mates were not around him, evidently. Then his eyes fell on Bob, coming
down the ladder, and he gazed about blankly. Mart grinned.

"Is the wreck there, Jerry?"

For a moment Jerry made no reply, but stared around helplessly, and his
jaw dropped. His head went up, and he searched the ladder and bulwarks
above, until both Bob and Mart gave a shout of laughter.

"No use, Jerry," cried Bob cheerfully. "Your friends are gone, and
there's a set of irons waiting for you up for'ard. Come, get out o' that
suit and step lively, now."

Jerry gasped, then cried feebly:

"Gone? My mates gone? Hey, Dailey! Birch! Yorke! Where are you, mates?"

The terror and consternation on his face sobered the boys instantly. He
tried to get up, the veins standing out on his forehead, his eyes
straining frantically, but Mart swiftly pushed him back and faced him.
Helpless though the old man was in his heavily-weighted diving suit,
there was something terrible in his aspect that made both boys feel a
sudden fear of his unleashed fury.

"Sit back there," ordered Mart peremptorily. "No use calling for your
mates, Jerry. They can't help you now, and you're in for it."

"Eh?" Jerry stared up, his face working horribly, his fingers twining
and untwining. "You--you've killed 'em? You've killed poor old Borden,
lad, and Dailey--and Birch--"

Mart could stand it no longer.

"No, nobody's killed, Jerry," he said kindly, sympathizing with the old
man's terrible agitation. "We've marooned your men on the island, and
they're helpless and unarmed. The _Seamew_ belongs to us now, and I
think it'll be best for all concerned that you go in irons. We can't
trust you, Jerry, and that's flat."

Slowly the old quartermaster comprehended his defeat. A look of anguish
flitted across his face, his eyes lost their keen sharpness and became
old and bleared onc