a small canvas bag, and by the side of it
fourpence halfpenny in coppers and an unknown amount in brace buttons.

"There was twenty-three pounds freight money in that bag when we left
London," said the skipper, finding his voice at last.

"Well, what do you think's become of it?" inquired the mate, taking up
the lamp and blowing it out.

"I can't think," said the skipper, "my'ed's all confused. Bro--Mr.
Hutchins ain't come back yet."

"I s'pose he was late and didn't like to disturb you," said the mate
without moving a muscle, "but I've no doubt 'e's all right. Don't you
worry about him."

"It's very strange where it's gone, George," faltered the skipper, "very
strange."

"Well, 'Utchins is a generous sort o' chap," said the mate, "'e give the
men five pounds for nothing, so perhaps he'll give you something--when
'e comes back."

"Go an' ask the crew to come down here," said the skipper, sinking on a
locker and gazing at the brazen collection before him.

The mate obeyed, and a few minutes afterwards returned with the men, who
swarming into the cabin, listened sympathetically as the skipper related
his loss.

"It's a mystery which nobody can understand, sir," said old Dan when he
had finished, "and it's no use tryin'."

"One o' them things what won't never be cleared up properly," said the
cook comfortably.

"Well, I don't like to say it," said the skipper, "but I must. The only
man who could have taken it was Hutchins."

"Wot, sir," said Dan, "that blessed man! Why, I'd laugh at the idea."

"He couldn't do it," said the boy, "not if he tried he couldn't. He was
too good."

"He's taken that twenty-three poun'," said the skipper deliberately;
"eighteen, we'll call it, because I'm goin' to have five of it back."

"You're labourin' under a great mistake, sir," said Dan ambiguously.

"Are you going to give me that money?" said the skipper loudly.

"Beggin' your pardon, sir, no," said the cook, speaking for the rest as
he put his foot on the companion-ladder. "Brother 'Utchins gave us that
money for singing them 'ims so well. 'E said so, and we ain't 'ad no
call to think as it warn't honestly come by. Nothing could ever make us
think that, would it, mates?"

"Nothing," said the others with exemplary firmness. "It couldn't be
done."

They followed the cook up on deck, and leaning over the side, gazed in
a yearning fashion toward the place where they had last seen their
benefactor. Then, with a sorrow