fforts in impartial criticism. Mart was
amazed to find that after scoring twenty or thirty hits, the shark still
plunged and leaped as strongly as ever, although a red trail was seeping
out into the water behind him. Finally Captain Hollinger took a hand in
the game and with three well-placed bullets killed the shark.

"That's enough for me," declared Mart disgustedly putting down his
rifle. "It doesn't give the brute a fair show and it's too much like
butchery. I'm satisfied."

"Here too," nodded Bob, disdaining his father's laughter. "I guess I'll
stick to the twenty-twos and porpoises. Too much blood in sharks."

So that, after this, there was no more shooting at sharks. And for that
matter, something occurred the very next day that served to take the
boys' minds off sharks for some time to come.

Up until now there had been no trouble whatever aboard the _Seamew_. The
crew were paid good wages, and their food was far superior to that of
the ordinary forecastle galley. The engine-room crew was composed of two
Scotch engineers and a gang of Kanakas, and the brown-skinned sailors
were all willing and cheerful workers.

The second mate, however, did not get on well with the men who had been
shipped by old Jerry Smith. Peters was an excellent seaman, and was far
easier on the men than was the first mate, Swanson. Yet Swanson was
obeyed with great alacrity, probably because he did not hesitate to
bully the men, while Peters had some difficulty in making the men adopt
what he considered their proper attitude. With Captain Hollinger there
was of course no trouble whatever.

The day after they had shot the shark, the boys were waiting for
mess-call, and were looking over some magazines in the library saloon.
Suddenly they heard voices in altercation on the deck, and the tramp of
feet, while the angry tones of Peters rose deep and vehement.

"Something wrong!" exclaimed Mart, springing to the companionway.

"Hold on," cried Bob hastily, joining him. "Don't get mixed up in any
row, Mart."

"No danger," chuckled the other. "Hello! By golly, Liverpool's mad for
fair!"

And so he was. Looking out the door of the companionway on to the
starboard deck-alley of the yacht, they saw that the awnings were up and
the decks were being holystoned. Outside the door stood a bucket of
water, a big holystone beside it, while the one-eyed seaman Birch was
just rising to his feet from the deck. Peters was standing over him, his
face