state;
as it was an old satchel which my father used for a shooting-bag. I had
never known boys to carry books in a satchel. That kind of school was
unknown to me.

"Well," he said, fingering the strap affectionately, as though he was
going to lift it off my head, "you let me take it away with me. I've got
men in this ship, who can mend a cut leather strap as neat as you've no
idea of. They'd sew up a cut like them so as you'd hardly know it had
been cut."

I really feared that he would have the bag away from me by main force.
But I rallied all my forces to save it. "I'm lagged now," I said. "I
haven't undone my things. I'll give it to you in the morning."

It seemed to me that he looked at me rather hard when I said this; but
he evidently thought "What can it matter? Tomorrow will serve just as
well." So he just gave a little laugh. "Right," he said. "You turn in
now. Give it to me in the morning. Good night, boy."

"Good night," I said, as he left the cabin, adding, under my breath,
"Good riddance, too. You won't find quite so much when you come to
examine this bag by daylight." After he had gone--but not at once, as I
wished not to make him suspicious,--I locked my cabin-door. Then I hung
my tarred sea-coat on the door-hook, so that the flap entirely covered
the keyhole. There were bolts on the door, but the upper one alone could
be pushed home. With this in its place felt secure from spies. Yet not
too secure. I was not certain that the bulkheads were without crannies
from which I could be watched. The crack by the door-hinge might, for
all I knew, give a very good view of the inside of the cabin. Thinking
that I might still be under observation I decided to put off what I had
to do until the very early morning, so I undressed myself for bed. I
took care to put out the light before turning in, so that I might not
be seen lashing the satchel round my neck with a length of spunyarn. I
slept with my head upon it.

CHAPTER XII. BRAVE CAPTAIN BARLOW

Very early the next morning, at about half-past four, a little before
sunrise, I woke up with a start, wondering where I was. Looking through
my little scuttle port, I could see the flashing of bright waves,
which sometimes dowsed my window with a shower of drops. The ship
was apparently making about three knots an hour, under all her sails.
Directly I woke, I turned out of my bunk to do what I had to do. After
dressing, I took my sail-making tools from my housew