the bows, and, holding on tightly,
climbed up and looked over, seeing nothing but the foaming water churned
up by the ship as she plunged on and on, looking as if she were moment
by moment going to split upon what might have been one huge black rock
right ahead.

I changed my position, and got to the other side of the bowsprit to hold
on and look over there, but still I could see nothing, and though I
shouted again and again there was no reply.

"Nobody could possibly be hanging on there," I thought, as I tried to
pierce the mist of spray; and I felt that if low down on the stays, he
would be dipped at every plunge, and drowned in a few minutes, and if
higher, to a certainty, unless lashed to the ropes, be washed off.

I stayed some minutes, hailing again and again, with my voice carried
forward by the wind, and then made my way back to my two companions,
whose faces were turned inquiringly toward me as I shook my head.

"There can't be any one there," I said. "It's impossible."

"So Mr Brymer thought," said Mr Preddle. "He said he would be either
washed off or drowned, and that it must be one of the men below."

"There it is again," said Mr Denning; "and it is below."

"Yes; there!" I cried, for there was a heavy banging at a bulk-head,
and some one shouted savagely to whoever cried for help to be quiet, and
then a shot was fired, but not at us.

"The wretches!" I said.

"The wretch!" said Mr Denning. "That was Jarette's voice, I'm sure;
and he must have fired."

"At some prisoner they have there below," I said.

"Or at the wounded man," cried Mr Preddle.

"It must be another wounded man then, for you heard the sound before you
fired that shot."

"Yes; and it makes me feel better satisfied, for the mutineers are such
brutes--such savage brutes."

"There!" I cried; "do you hear?" for once more the cry for help came so
piteous, faint, and despairing that it seemed to go through me from head
to heel in one long, continuous shudder.

"If it hadn't been for what we heard just now," said Mr Preddle just
then, "I should have been ready to think it was something uncanny--
something ghostly; but," he added hastily, as Mr Denning turned a
mocking face to him, "I don't think so now."

"It's very horrid," I said; "and the worst of it is that one can't do
anything. I wish we could send Mr Frewen to help the poor fellow,
whoever it is."

"Yes, it is horrible," said Mr Denning; "but they made us suffer so