everal times before," said Mr
Preddle excitedly. "He thought it must be one of the mutineers who had
escaped aloft at first, afraid to stir to come down."

"I don't think it could be that," I said. "It didn't sound like being
up aloft."

"So he said. Then he thought--"

"There it is again," cried Mr Denning and I heard, above the shrieking
of the wind and the hissing spray, a despairing kind of wail, as if some
one called for help.

"Why, it's forward somewhere," I said, with a curious shudder running
through me which was not caused by the wind and spray.

"Yes, that's what Mr Brymer said; but he went and searched all about
forward."

"Then it must be one of the men below--one who is wounded," I said. "Do
you think we could send Mr Frewen down to his help?"

"Not without letting your prisoners loose," said Mr Denning,
decisively. "I'm sorry for the man, but he must suffer for the
present."

"It's very horrible," I said; "for he may be very bad--dying perhaps."

"Yes," said Mr Denning coldly; "but it was not our work, I suppose."

"There it is again," said Mr Preddle. "When the mate was here, he felt
sure that some one had crept overboard, and down to what he called the
stays under the bowsprit."

"When the attack was made?" I cried. "Yes, that must be it. There it
goes again. That was certainly `Help!'"

"Yes."

"He must be afraid of falling. Why, the vessel keeps on driving into
these great waves, and at every dip down he must be nearly drowned."

"What are you going to do, Dale?" cried Mr Denning.

"Find out where he is, and then lower a rope to him; and when he has
fastened it round him, we must haul him on board, even if he is another
enemy. There'll be no need to be afraid of him."

I was trying to make out where I could most handily find a rope, when,
plainly heard above the heavy beating of the waves against our bows, as
the ship rose and fell in her wild race onward through the dense
blackness ahead, there was the murmur of a voice and a loud movement
below the hatch we were guarding.

Then distinctly heard came the words--

"Give me room then," and this was followed by a crashing sound, and a
jar against my hand as I held on to the side of the hatchway.

"They've got a chopper, and are going to cut their way out!" I said
excitedly. And almost as I spoke there was another dull blow, and this
was followed by a cheer.

"What are you going to do?" I cried, as Mr Preddle held