e change
himself to a fish or other shape, unobserved? The sailors from the
_Mirabelle_ were everywhere--in the thickets for the shade, as well as
along the edge of the cove where he now stood, indecisive. To use the
rope was just as impossible, for the beach was broad and Chris was
acutely aware that he stood out like a single tree in a field, there
on the white sand in the broiling sun.

"Better come outen that sun, Chris!" someone called to him. "There's
too much of heat in it to be good for unkivered heads!"

Chris knew the voice of the sailor was right, and was on the point of
jumping into one of the dinghies, where they lay pulled up on the
beach.

Far out on the cove, the decks of the _Mirabelle_ were deserted and
unlike themselves, so empty of life. Sweat started out on Chris's
forehead, as he imagined Zachary in the hold lighting the fuse, and he
wondered where the good Captain and Mr. Finney might be. He wondered
too if he could row over in time, or if he would be blown up with the
ship.

The boy had his hands on the scorching wood of a dinghy, his muscles
tensed to thrust it into the waters of the cove, when out over the
still harbor, jangling in the heat, came a prolonged and piercing
scream. Hot as he was, Chris felt himself go cold at the sound. He
knew instantly, although he had never heard it before, that this was
the death cry of a man. The scream came a second time, terrified and
despairing, and out over the water following it came a low, scattered
rumble.

Silence fell for several frozen seconds, and then all at once Chris
became aware as he stood rigid with horror by the boat that the
sailors of the _Mirabelle_ had rushed out from the coolness of the
shore to stand stiff and appalled beside him. A babble of voices broke
out, and one by one the boats were hastily launched, heading back to
the ship, leaving Chris shaking and unnerved on the sand. Over the
water as brawny backs bent to the oars the words came floating back:

"Someone's dead for sartin sure--"

"Who was left on board, you say?"

"Leave the lads--no sight for young-uns."

"_Pull_, you lazy lubbers! The Capt'n and Mr. Finney bean't among
us!"

It was a little later that Chris remembered Amos having taken his arm
and led him into the shade, and of how sick he was--the heat and the
scream, the fear, and a sense of having failed in warning the Captain,
combining to churn his insides into a queasy place that violently
rejected h