evident dismay.

"Come adrift from the stiffening quite a strip of it," he said. "Well,
I guess I can somehow fix the thing up so as nobody will notice it. It
should be easier than putting a new cloth in a topsail, and I've a
mending outfit in the locker."

Nasmyth was by no means sure of George's ability to make the damage
good, but he permitted the skipper to tie on the loose skirt, and then
to hang the beribboned mandolin round his neck. When this was done
George surveyed him with a grin of satisfaction.

"Well," said George, "I guess you'll do. Now you'll keep behind the
skylights, and only get up and bang that mandolin when Martial wants
to come on board. Guess when he sees you he'll feel 'most like jumping
right out of his skin. Miss Hamilton's not going to mind. I've seen
her looking at him as if she'd like to stick a big hatpin into him."

They went up, and Nasmyth, who felt guilty as he crouched in the
shadow, could see a black head and the flash of a white arm that swung
out into the moonlight and disappeared again. Martial was swimming
pluckily, and the tide was with him, for his head grew larger every
minute, and presently the gleam of his skin became visible through the
pale shining of the brine. His face dipped as his left arm came out at
every stroke, and the water frothed as his feet swung together like a
flail. He paddled easily while the tide swept him on until he reached
the _Tillicum_. Then his voice rose, breathless and cautious.

"Anchor watch," he called. "Anybody else on board?"

George, who kept out of sight, did not answer. Martial called again.

"Don't let anybody out of the companion while I get up," he
commanded.

The _Tillicum_ had a high sheer forward, and he could not reach her
rail, but as the tide swept him along he raised himself to clutch at
it where it was lower abreast of the skylights.

"Now," said George softly, "you can play the band."

Nasmyth rose and swept his knife-haft across the strings of the
mandolin. For a moment he saw something like horror in Martial's wet
face, and then the man, who gasped, went down headforemost into the
water. Martial was nearly a dozen yards astern when his head came out
again, and he slid away with the tide, with his white arm swinging
furiously. George sat down upon the deck, and expressed his
satisfaction by drumming his feet upon the planking while he laughed.

"He's off," he said. "Might have a high-power engine inside of him.
Gu