've got to make the best of it until we get caught, and if we don't,
you've got to make the best of it, too. Lots o' young men among us, and
you're no spring chicken, by the looks o' you."

Old Kelly went down before a fist blow from Hawkes, who thus strove to
rehabilitate himself in the good opinion of his mates, and Hawkes went
backward from a blow from Sampson, who, as yet unsullied from unworthy
thought, held his position as peacemaker and moralist. And while they
were recovering from the excitement, Denman, with blood on his face
from the wound in his scalp, appeared among them.

"Are you fellows utterly devoid of manhood and self-respect," he said,
sternly, "that you appear before the door of a sickroom and bait a woman
who cannot defend herself even by speech? Shame upon you! You have
crippled me, but I am recovering. If you cannot aid this woman, leave
her to me. She is burned, scalded, disfigured--she hardly knows her
name, or where she came from. You have saved her from the wreck, and
have since neglected her. Men, you are jailbirds as you say, but you are
American seamen. If you cannot help her, leave her. Do not insult her. I
am helpless; if I had power I would decree further relief from the
medicine-chest. But I am a prisoner--restricted."

Sampson squared his big shoulders. "On deck with you fellows--all of
you. Git--quick!"

They filed up the companion, leaving Sampson looking at Denman.

"Lieutenant," he said, "you take care o' this poor woman, and if any one
interferes, notify me. I'm as big a man as Jenkins, who's knocked out,
and a bigger man than Forsythe, who's now in command. But we're
fair--understand? We're fair--the most of us."

"Yes, yes," answered Denman, as he staggered back to a transom seat.

"Want anything yourself?" asked Sampson, as he noted the supine figure
of Denman. "You're still Lieutenant Denman, of the navy--understand?"

"No, I do not. Leave me alone."

Sampson followed his mates.

Denman sat a few moments, nursing his aching head and trying to adjust
himself to conditions. And as he sat there, he felt a hand on his
shoulder and heard a weak voice saying:

"Are you Lieutenant Denman--Billie Denman?"

He looked up. The bandaged face of the woman was above him. Out of the
folds of the bandage looked two serious, gray eyes; and he knew them.

"Florrie!" he said, in a choke. "Is this you--grown up? Florrie Fleming!
How--why--what brings you here?"

"I started on the