Fernando Noronha without fuel? It
is a hundred to one that the launch would not steam twenty miles on her
present coal supply. Such as it is, we must keep it for an emergency,
even if we are compelled to tear up the deck and dismantle the cabin."

"Talks like a book!" snorted Coke, and some of the men grinned
sheepishly.

Hozier was coolly reminding them of those vital things which frenzy had
failed wholly to take into account. Confidence was reborn in them.
They wanted to cheer this fearless young officer who seemed to forget
nothing, but the island promontories were so close at hand that
perforce they were dumb.

The simplicity of the project was its best recommendation. Sailors
themselves, the mind of the cruiser's commander was laid bare to them.
He would soon be convinced that the launch had passed him in the dark
ere the search-light looked out over the sea. Long before the circuit
of Fernando Noronha was completed he would be itching to rush at top
speed along the straight line to Pernambuco. It was a bold thing, too,
to land on the island and stock their vessel for a voyage, the end of
which no man could foresee. The dare-devil notion fascinated them. In
that instant, the _Andromeda's_ crew returned to their allegiance,
which was as well, since it was fated to be stiffly tested many times
ere they were reported inside 1 degree West again.

Unfortunately, Coke was in a raging temper. Never before had his
supremacy been challenged. Having lost control over his men, he owed
its restoration to Hozier. Such a fact was gall and wormwood to a man
of his character, and he was mean-souled enough to be vindictive.
Promising himself the future joy of pounding to a jelly the features of
every mother's son among the forecastle hands, he began to snarl his
orders.

"Watts, you must leg it to the sky-line, an' pipe the cruiser. Olsen,
you go, too, an' see that Mr. Watts doesn't find a brewery. Hozier,
p'raps you'd like to rig the mistletoe. Miss Yorke 'll 'elp, I'm sure.
It's up to you, mister, an' his nibs with the sword, to parly-voo to
the other convicts about the grub. Is there a nigger's wood-pile
handy? If not, we must collar the hut. I'll take care of the stowage."

He meant each jibe to hurt, and probably succeeded, but Watts was too
despondent, and Hozier and De Sylva too self-controlled, to say aught
that would add to their difficulties. Nevertheless, he was answered,
from a quarter whence r