ked in, and there
were several shot-holes in her sides, which had been hastily plugged.
Splashes of blood here and there on the deck showed that several of the
hapless crew had been killed or wounded while defending their ship. The
pirates had already obliterated the name on her stern. Why they had
done this it was difficult to say, except perhaps, for prudence' sake,
it was their custom immediately on capturing a vessel.

While the first lieutenant and the master were superintending the
operation of securing the prisoners, Gerald accompanied Mr Foley into
the cabin. At the first glance they saw that it had been lately
occupied by passengers. In the side berth were hanging up two or three
articles of female gear. A book lay open on the table.

In another cabin were a pair of men's shoes; and in a third, evidently
that of the master of the ship, were several other articles. Gerald
hurried into the latter, for his eye had fallen on a chart hanging
against the bulkhead, the appearance of which struck him. The outside
was marked in large letters, "Caribbean Sea." He had himself written
them. With trembling hand he took it down. Yes! it was a chart
belonging to his father. He hurriedly glanced at other articles,
several of which he recognised. On a locker was a log-book. He opened
it; all doubt was at an end. It was headed "Log of the _Research_,
Captain Gerald Tracy." He hurried over the latter pages. There he saw
that the ship had met with a long course of bad weather when no
observations could be taken. The last entry was--"A strange sail in
sight standing towards us. Latitude 23 degrees north, longitude 73
degrees 15 minutes west." Leaving the berth with bloodless lips and
pale cheek, he turned to the first page of the book on the table. On it
was written--"Norah Tracy."

Mr Foley was startled by the cry of grief and alarm which escaped from
Gerald. Unable to speak, Gerald could merely point at the page. Mr
Foley in an instant understood it all. Several articles belonging to
Norah remained in the cabin. In the other were some books, and several
things marked with the name of Dennis O'Brien.

"Then Captain O'Brien must also have been on board," said Mr Foley.

"He was my father's greatest friend; but oh, Mr Foley, what can have
become of them? Can they have all been killed by those villainous
pirates?" cried Gerald.

"I trust not," answered Norman Foley, though his heart misgave him as he
s