ver the gangway. The _Cobra_ was still tied up to the quay at Weymouth,
her highly-paid crew of scoundrels chafing against the delay which
deferred their promised reward, but by this time thoroughly cowed by the
vessel's weird commander. There was not a man on her who dared leave the
ship without permission or definite orders. The grog-shops in full view
of "the sleeping snake," as they had dubbed the steamer, had no longer
temptation for men who knew that if they yielded to it, retribution
would be swift and sure. It was wiser, they argued amongst themselves,
to observe discipline and reap a harvest of shekels when the _Cobra's_
mission, whatever it might be, had been fulfilled. It was also the
easier to keep them on board, since most of them had been selected
because, for one reason or another, they were wanted by the police.

Having despatched his subordinate on his curious mission, Captain Brant
made a tour of his ship, inspecting every portion of her with as close
an attention to detail as if she had been a man-of-war. The luxurious
and beautifully-upholstered saloon on the upper deck received a large
share of his critical scrutiny; while, in strange contrast, his next
visit was to a cabin on the lower deck, down in the bowels of the
vessel, which was hardly furnished at all, and was certainly not
luxurious. A bare bench, with some sacking on it, suggested that it was
meant for a bed, and that was about all. Screwed into the bulk-head
over the bench was a massive iron ring, and there lay on the floor a
longish chain and a complete set of leg-irons fitted with cruel anklets.
The only means of light was a small porthole protected by bars. The
place seemed to have been prepared as a lazaretto--a kind of maritime
prison.

Brant smiled grimly at the forbidding-looking chamber, then went back to
the upper deck to await Cheeseman's return. Punctually at the stipulated
time the bullet-headed mate appeared at the gangway.

"Well, where are the things? Where is the stewardess?" the captain
scowled at him, perceiving that he was empty-handed and unaccompanied.

"The clothes will be delivered within half an hour; they had to make
some alterations," Cheeseman hastened to assure him. "As to engaging a
stewardess it's a dead failure. I saw one or two, but they won't join
without fuller particulars of where we're bound for and how long we're
to be away. I couldn't tell 'em, could I, seeing as I don't know
myself."

The captai