rts. Then a door was
banged again loudly, and we stood listening, Mr Frewen with his
forehead resting against the panel and his hands clenched, while his
face was all drawn into puckers and wrinkles as if he was suffering the
most intense agony.

And as we listened, I, horror-stricken, and in the full belief that poor
Miss Denning had been shot, perhaps in trying to save her brother, a
couple more of the cabin-doors were opened and closed; then there was a
good deal of talking and the giving of orders. At last, when we felt
that Jarette and his men were going forward once again to their quarters
in the forecastle, leaving us in horrible suspense, a heavy step
approached our door, which was opened, and Hampton appeared.

"Who was that shot?" cried Mr Frewen, rushing at the man and seizing
him by the breast.

"Easy, sir; easy it is. You'd best ask the skipper."

"I say, who was that shot just now?"

"And I says, ask the skipper, sir. It ain't my business. My business
is to bring you out. You're wanted, and you're to bring your tools."

"Wanted? To attend the injured person?"

"I suppose so," replied Hampton, with brutal callousness; and just as
Jarette approached, "Here's the captain, ask him."

Mr Frewen did not ask, but darted to one of the little drawers with
which his cabin was fitted, took out a case and a packet of surgical
necessaries packed all ready for emergencies, and turned back to the
door.

"Here, where are you going, youngster?" cried Hampton, who was looking
in with a peculiar expression upon his countenance.

"With Mr Frewen," I said stoutly.

"No, you're not. Go back."

"But he'll want me to help him!" I cried excitedly. "I must go."

"Yes; come with me, my lad!" cried Mr Frewen, and as I pressed forward,
Hampton made no further objections to my presence, though before at a
look from his leader he had barred the way with his sturdy arms.

The next moment we were standing in the torn and blackened saloon, with
Mr Frewen looking round wildly from door to door, seeking the one
through which he was to go.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

"Here, this way," said Jarette, fiercely, "and now you'll see that I'm
not a man to be played with. I'm captain here now, and it's obey me
or--"

He snatched a pistol from his breast and held it menacingly toward
Frewen, who flashed out at him--

"Put that thing away, madman, and show me my patient. Which cabin is
it?"

"That one," said Jarette,