eaving and trembling, it--it's queer."

"That's it, that's it," said Wilbur quickly, facing her. "What are we
going to do, Moran?"

"STICK IT OUT!" she exclaimed, striking her knee with her fist.
"We can't leave the schooner--I WON'T leave her. I'll stay by this
dough-dish as long as two planks in her hold together. Were you thinking
of cutting away?" She fixed him with her frown.

Wilbur looked at her, sitting erect by the disabled rudder, her head
bare, her braids of yellow hair hanging over her breast, sitting there
in man's clothes and man's boots, the pistol at her side. He shook his
head.

"I'm not leaving the 'Bertha' till you do," he answered; adding: "I'll
stand by you, mate, until we--"

"Feel that?" said Moran, holding up a hand.

A fine, quivering tremble was thrilling through every beam of the
schooner, vibrating each rope like a harp-string. It passed away; but
before either Wilbur or Moran could comment upon it recommenced, this
time much more perceptibly. Charlie dashed aft, his queue flying.

"W'at makum heap shake?" he shouted; "w'at for him shake? No savvy, no
likee, pretty much heap flaid; aie-yah, aie-yah!"

Slowly the schooner heaved up as though upon the crest of some huge
wave, slowly it settled, and again gradually lifted till Wilbur had
to catch at the rail to steady his footing. The quivering sensation
increased so that their very teeth chattered with it. Below in the cabin
they could hear small objects falling from the shelves and table. Then
with a sudden drop the "Bertha" fell back to her keel again, the spilled
oil spouting from her scuppers, the masts rocking, the water churning
and splashing from her sides.

And that was all. There was no sound--nothing was in sight. There was
only the frightened trembling of the little schooner and that long, slow
heave and lift.

Morning came, and breakfast was had in silence and grim perplexity. It
was too late to think of getting away, now that the rudder was disabled.
The "Bertha Millner" must bide where she was.

"And a little more of this dancing," exclaimed Moran, "and we'll have
the planks springing off the stern-post."

Charlie nodded solemnly. He said nothing--his gravity had returned. Now
in the glare of the tropical day, with the "Bertha Millner" sitting the
sea as placidly as a brooding gull, he was Talleyrand again.

"I tinkum yas," he said vaguely.

"Well, I think we had better try and fix the rudder and put back to
Fris