cup of tea would
doubtless have done me good.

I was still in doubt whether the whiskey bottle would ultimately prove
to be my friend or my foe. The skipper maintained his position at the
helm till dinner was ready, and then was able to totter into the cabin,
when Peter had taken his place. He did not come on deck when he had
finished his meal; but Marian soon appeared, and said he had tumbled
into one of the berths. He had taken his revolver with him.

"Can't you turn over, Philip?" said she, standing beside me. "I will
cut your cords."

"No! Don't do that. Gorrificious! Mr. Whippleton will kill us all."

But I turned over, as far as I was able, and the resolute girl cut the
rope that bound my hands together. She had hardly done so before Peter
sprang upon her, and hurled her over to the other side of the
standing-room. I disengaged my hands; but the line which secured my
feet was made fast to a cleat, and when I attempted to rise, I was
thrown down upon the floor. Peter leaped upon me, and shouted for Mr.
Whippleton.

CHAPTER XXVI.

IN WHICH PHIL FINDS THE TABLES TURNED, AND THE MARIAN RUNS INTO CHICAGO
RIVER.

"Gorrificious!--Mr. Whippleton!" shouted Peter, as he lay down upon me.

"Let him alone, Peter," pleaded Marian, as she rushed to the rope which
bound my feet.

"Can't do it, miss. Mr. Whippleton will shoot me," answered the cook,
in high excitement.

Marian cast off the rope which bound me to the cleat, and then untied
my feet; but the negro had placed his knee upon my breast, and held me
by the throat with both hands. The condition to which I was reduced was
desperate, and only desperate measures could redeem me. I began to
struggle, and when my feet were free, I began to use them with
considerable vigor. But I was very feeble, and with the advantage he
had over me, I was not equal even to the old negro.

The battle was going against me, and I heard the uncertain movements of
Mr. Whippleton in the cabin. Marian wrung her hands in despair, when
she saw her resolute effort apparently so signally defeated. Out of
breath and out of strength, I was compelled to abandon the struggle as
useless; but my fair ally was not so demoralized. She took the tin cup,
which the negro used for his drams, and pouring some whiskey from the
skipper's bottle, she dashed it into the face of the cook, just as Mr.
Whippleton was coming up the steps from the cabin.

"Gorrificious!" yelled the negro, blinded by t