captain and mate were sitting, while the
former's wife and child were asleep in the adjoining apartment.

There was a sharp, desperate encounter in the small space, in which
they were quickly over-powered. But when the mate was struck senseless
he rolled under the large table, and must have escaped further notice,
for after despatching the captain and his screaming wife, the mutineers
evidently took at once to the boats, and left the dismasted hulk to
founder with its gruesome freight.

But the storm was over by that time, and it had drifted for two days
and nights, at least, by the mate's reckoning, during which he had lain
unconscious, wondrously preserved from death.

What was the fate of the seamen thus deserting no one could tell, but
with men insensate from arrack, even should they have escaped immediate
danger from the sea, they could hardly make port safely in a small open
boat.

It was more than probable that the mate was the only one left of the
ill-fated crew. Captain Hosmer was unable to take the tartan in tow on
account of the storm, but marked its location to report it at Algiers,
that wreckers might be sent to save the cargo and sink the hulk that it
should no longer be a menace and danger to every passing craft.

"How delightful this is!" murmured Faith early next morning, after
hours of storm-tossed uneasiness and dread. "Did you ever hear such
awful noises as we had all night? I'm almost afraid to look, for fear
everything is broken in here."

Hope, wide awake in an instant, returned,

"It is astonishingly still now, isn't it? I wonder what it means.
Even the engines have stopped--don't you hear?"

"How can I hear stillness?" laughed Faith. "I do perceive that they've
stopped, though. Yes, we must have come safely into port
somewhere--why, I wonder if it is Algiers?"

Hope rose up on one elbow, in some excitement, then gave a cry.

"Why, look at the cage--and where is Texas?" and Faith, rising also,
saw that the bottom had dropped out of the parrot's home and lay, with
its contents, but not its inmate, upon the floor amid some broken glass
and crockery.

"The storm has done it! Where can Texas be? Oh, I hope he is not
killed--"

"Good-morning!" croaked a voice at their very ears, and there, on the
thick nickel rim surrounding one of the portholes just above their
heads, perched Texas, dignified and imperturbable as ever.

Both girls broke into laughter, and tried to coax him do