t," said Roylance, as the sun rose high once more,
and his voice sounded harsh and strange. "I shall die to-day raving
mad. We must go, but let's write something to your father to find when
he does come."

"I have done it," said Sydney. "I wrote it last night before I turned
so queer and half mad-like with this horrible thirst."

"Did you turn half mad?"

"Yes, when I was alone after I had done it.--I told my father that we
had all tried to do our duty, and had fought to the last; and said
good-bye."

"Where did you put it?" said Roylance, as they walked slowly to the
upper gun, while Terry lay beneath a rock seeming to watch them.

"Put what?" said Sydney, vacantly.

"The letter to your father."

"What letter to my father? Has Uncle Tom written to him?"

"Belt, old fellow, hold up," cried Roylance, half frantically. "Don't
you give way."

"Oh, I did feel so stupid," said Syd, with a loud harsh laugh. "Said I
wouldn't go to sea, and ran away, and then came sneaking back with my
tail between my legs. Oh, there's Barney."

"No, no, my dear fellow; there's no one here."

"Yes, there is," cried Syd, angrily, as he stared with bloodshot eyes
straight before him. "Barney, what does the dad say? Is he very
cross?"

"Oh, Belt; don't, don't," groaned Roylance.--"I must get him under
shelter."

He took his friend's arm.

"No, no, you shan't," cried Sydney. "I won't be dragged in before them.
I'll go in straight when I do go, and say I was wrong. Touch me again,
Barney, and I'll hit you."

"It is I, Belt. Don't you know me?"

"Know you?--of course. What made you say that?"

"I--I don't know."

"Roy, poor fellow, you are suffering from the heat. There's no ship in
sight, but you and I mustn't give up; we must set an example to the
men.--No, no, Barney, I tell you I will not go."

"Terry, Mike Terry, come and help me," cried Roylance; but the
midshipman did not stir from where he lay under a shadowing rock.

"Not for a hundred of you I would not go. Eh! Water--where? Ah,
beautiful water! Can't you hear it splashing? Plenty to-night. Rain."

"Come into the shade, Belt," said Roylance, who felt now that their last
day had come, and that there was nothing to be done now but lie down and
die.

"No," said Syd, sharply, "I want to see the men. How are the poor
fellows?"

He staggered down to where the men not on duty were lying in the shade
cast by the rocks, and the boatswain, who seem