hock of the malarial stroke. When he stumbled
toward the companionway, his face was purpling and mottling as if
attacked by some monstrous inflammation or decay. His eyes were setting
in a glassy bulge, his hands shaking, his teeth clicking in the spasms
of chill.

"Two hours to get the sweat," he chattered with a ghastly grin. "And a
couple more and I'll be all right. I know the damned thing to the last
minute it runs its course. Y-y-you t-t-take ch-ch-ch-ch----"

His voice faded away in a weak stutter as he collapsed down into the
cabin and his employer took charge. The _Rattler_ was just entering the
passage. The heels of the horseshoe island were two huge mountains of
rock a thousand feet high, each almost broken off from the mainland and
connected with it by a low and narrow peninsula. Between the heels was
a half-mile stretch, all but blocked by a reef of coral extending across
from the south heel. The passage, which Captain Glass had called a
crevice, twisted into this reef, curved directly to the north heel, and
ran along the base of the perpendicular rock. At this point, with the
main-boom almost grazing the rock on the port side, Grief, peering down
on the starboard side, could see bottom less than two fathoms beneath
and shoaling steeply. With a whaleboat towing for steerage and as a
precaution against back-draughts from the cliff, and taking advantage of
a fan of breeze, he shook the Rattler full into it and glided by the big
coral patch without warping. As it was, he just scraped, but so softly
as not to start the copper.

The harbour of Fuatino opened before him. It was a circular sheet of
water, five miles in diameter, rimmed with white coral beaches, from
which the verdure-clad slopes rose swiftly to the frowning crater walls.
The crests of the walls were saw-toothed, volcanic peaks, capped and
halo'd with captive trade-wind clouds. Every nook and crevice of the
disintegrating lava gave foothold to creeping, climbing vines and
trees--a green foam of vegetation. Thin streams of water, that were
mere films of mist, swayed and undulated downward in sheer descents
of hundreds of feet. And to complete the magic of the place, the warm,
moist air was heavy with the perfume of the yellow-blossomed _cassi_.

Fanning along against light, vagrant airs, the _Rattler_ worked in.
Calling the whale-boat on board, Grief searched out the shore with his
binoculars. There was no life. In the hot blaze of tropic sun the