tswain in his familiar
gruff tones.

"Will you be quiet, boy?" cried Sydney, almost angrily now.

"Sit up, you swab," roared the boatswain; and Pan started into a sitting
position on the instant. "You, Rogers, go up to the stores and get me
three foot o' rope, thickest you can find.--Look ye here, Panny-mar," he
continued, rolling up his sleeve and holding out his enormous fist close
to the boy's nose, "see that?"

"Yes, father."

"You turned yerself into a stowaway and comed ashore without leave;
you've been turning yerself into a bear and a monkey, and living in the
holes o' the rocks by day, and coming out and stealing the prog by
night."

"I was so hungry, father," whispered Pan, who forgot his wound.

"Yah! hungry indeed! And then you've been giving your father the
worsest quarter of a hour he ever had in his life, and making his heart
bust with haggerny. You shammed dead at first, then you made believe as
you was hurt, when there was nothing the matter with yer but a little
bit of a hole through one arm."

"Oh!" moaned Pan, turning his eyes upon his white arm, where a bead of
blood was visible.

"And then you kicked out as if all your upper rigging was shattered with
chain-shot, and every kick went right through me. So now, look here:
your young captain's going to bandage that there bit o' nothing up, and
if you give so much as one squeak, you'll have my fist fust and the
rope's-end arter till you dance such a hornpipe as never was afore."

"Oh!" moaned Pan.

"Ah!"

There was silence for a moment, and then all present burst into a roar
of laughter, so great was the relief that the boy was not very bad.

"Ah, you may laugh, my lads," said the boatswain, looking round; "but I
do declare I'd sooner have a leg off with a shot than go through all
that again. Thought I'd shot him."

"So you did, father," cried Pan, with a vicious look.

"Yah! Hold your tongue! Call that shot? No more than having a
sail-needle slip and go through yer."

"But it hurts like red-hot poker."

"Good job too. Nothing to what you made me feel as I see yer lying
there.--Lying! Yes, that's the word, for yer did lie, yer shamming
young swab."

Pan began to cry silently, as Syd busied himself bandaging his hurt.

"And now he's a piping his eye like a great gal on Shoreport Hard.
Panny-mar, I'm proud o' you, I am; but I feel that bad, Mr Belton, sir,
that I'd take it kindly if you'd order me a tot o' rum."

"Take