gs. It is quite evident that the pirate schooner
cannot be far off. Gascoyne must either have swam ashore, or been
landed in a boat. In either case the schooner must have been within the
reef at the time, and there has been little wind since the squall blew
itself out yesterday."

"Quite enough, how ever, to blow such a light craft pretty far out to
sea in a few hours," said Henry, shaking his head.

"No matter," replied Mr Mason, with a sigh, "_something_ must be done
at any rate, I have borrowed the carpenter's small cutter, which is
being now put in order for a voyage. Provisions and water for a few
days are already on board, and I have come to ask you to take command of
her, as you know something of navigation. I will go, of course, but
will not take any management of the little craft, as I know nothing
about the working of vessels."

"And where do you mean to go?" asked Henry.

"That remains to be seen. I have some ideas running in my head, of
course, but before letting you know them I wish to hear what you would
advise."

"I would advise, in the first place, that you should provide one or two
thorough sailors to manage the craft. By the way, that reminds me of
Bumpus. What of him? Where is he? In the midst of all this bustle I
have not had time for much thought, and it has only just occurred to me
that if this schooner is really a pirate, and if Gascoyne turns out to
be Durward, it follows that Bumpus is a pirate too, and ought to be
dealt with accordingly."

"I have thought of that," said Mr Mason, with a perplexed look, "and
intended to speak to you on the subject, but events have crowded so fast
upon each other of late that it has been driven out of my mind. No
doubt, if the _Foam_ and the _Avenger_ are one and the same vessel, as
seems too evident to leave much room for doubt, then Bumpus is a pirate,
for he does not deny that he was one of the crew. But he acts strangely
for a pirate. He seems as much at his ease amongst us as if he were the
most innocent of men. Moreover, his looks seem to stamp him a
thoroughly honest fellow. But, alas! one cannot depend on looks."

"But where is the man?" asked Henry.

"He is asleep in the small closet off the kitchen," said Mrs Stuart,
"where he has been lying ever since you returned from the heathen
village. Poor fellow, he sleeps heavily, and looks as if he had been
hurt during all this fighting."

"Hurt! say you?" exclaimed Henry, laughing; "