to be caught napping; moreover, he had already been absent
long enough to make his return possible at any moment; so, with this
opinion expressed and understood, all hands sought their bunks with
perfectly easy minds.

Manners and Nicholls were the first to awake, which they did
simultaneously when the hurricane burst over the island, their sleeping-
room happening to be on the weather side of the fort, or that upon which
the gale beat with the greatest fury, and they were therefore naturally
the first to be disturbed by the uproar of the storm.

"Whew!" whistled Manners, as he settled himself more comfortably in his
cosy bunk; "it's blowing heavily! I'm glad I have no watch to keep to-
night. Listen to that!" as the wind went howling and careering past the
house, causing it to tremble to its foundations; "if it's like that down
here in this sheltered valley what must it be outside in the open sea?"

"Bad enough, Mr Manners, you may depend on't," answered Nicholls, who,
occupying the adjoining bunk, had overheard this muttered soliloquy,
"bad enough! This is the worst bout we've had since we've been on the
island. Why--listen to that, now!--and did ye feel the house shake,
sir? Why, it must be blowing a regular tornado--or typhoon, as they
calls 'em in these latitudes. The skipper sleeps pretty sound through
it, don't he, sir?"

"He does, indeed," replied Manners; and then, a sudden recollection of
the fishing expedition coming upon him, he added, "I suppose he _is_
asleep--I suppose he is in his berth. Did you hear him come in?"

"Not I, sir," was the answer. "I dozed off to sleep almost before I had
time to make myself comfortable, and I never woke again until a minute
or two since when the roar of the gale disturbed me."

"Are you awake, Captain Blyth?" demanded Manners sharply.

No answer, and both men listen as well as they can through the awful
roar and shriek of the gale, hoping to hear the measured breathing of
the sleeper. But no such sound is heard; and after listening
breathlessly for a few seconds Manners bounds out of his berth, and
fumbling about for the matches, finds them at last and strikes a light.
The skipper's berth is empty and undisturbed; it has evidently not been
slept in that night.

Manners and Nicholls--the latter having also turned out--look blankly at
the bunk and then at each other, the same dreadful suspicion dawning
upon them both at the same instant.

"Good heavens!"