I often had come to the conclusion that the knife would have been better
with two more blades instead. But now its time had come, and with a
feeling of being able to triumph over a difficulty, I stepped to the
bulk-head, feeling rather giddy and strange in the head, but this passed
off in the excitement, as I rapidly stuck in the point of the gimlet and
began to bore.

The bulk-head was composed of three-quarter inch board, but I kept on
boring and boring without apparently getting through, and I drew out the
gimlet at last, after boring in as far as I could, and stood looking at
the position in dismay.

Just then came a fresh tapping, to which I responded, and then as I
listened to the hollow sound I knew what had been wrong. I had been
boring through the board just where it was backed by one of the uprights
which gave strength to the bulk-head.

The next minute I had bored a hole right through, and on withdrawing the
gimlet I could see daylight.

"Who's that?" I whispered, with my lips to the tiny hole, and placing
my ear to the orifice I heard for answer--

"Me, Mr Preddle. Who are you?"

"Dale and Mr Frewen," I answered.

"What does he say?" asked Mr Frewen.

"Says he is so glad, sir."

"Thank him, and ask him about the passengers, whether any one is hurt."

I whispered the question through the hole, and listened for the answer.

"Captain Berriman and Mr Brymer both wounded again in the struggle,
when the men rushed into the saloon after the explosion. Now shut up in
their cabins."

"But the passengers; ask him about the passengers," whispered Mr
Frewen.

I asked, and the answer came back--

"No one hurt."

I saw Mr Frewen close his eyes at this, and his lips moved as I felt
sure in prayer.

"Yes?" I whispered back, as Mr Preddle said something which sounded
all buzz, buzz, buzz.

"I say, what will those wretches do with us?"

"I don't know."

"Will they kill us and throw us overboard?"

"No," I whispered through. "If they had meant that, they would have
done it at once. But don't talk any more now."

"Buzz, buzz, buzz."

"What say?"

"Buzz, talk, buzz, buzz."

I opened my penknife, for I knew that the reason why Mr Preddle's words
sounded so buzzy, was that a lot of little bits of wood were sticking up
through the hole left by the gimlet. And so it proved, for after a
little cutting all the words sounded clearly enough, and he promised to
wait till I had attended to Mr Fr