it must be some one of our lads he is of course afraid.
Oughtn't I to run to Mr Brymer?"

The need ceased the next moment, for before we could decide whether the
signal ought to be given by firing a pistol, Neb Dumlow appeared in the
feeble glow shed by the lantern, coming out of the black darkness in a
peculiarly weird fashion.

"Ahoy!" he growled. "Mate says, is all right?"

"No," I said eagerly, for boy as I was, I seemed to be the captain of
that watch, the two gentlemen giving place to me, even if they did
oppose some of my ideas. "Go and tell Mr Brymer to come here."

"Ay, ay!" growled the great ugly fellow--uglier now in the darkness than
he had ever looked before--and he turned and trotted aft, to return in a
few minutes bearing a lantern, and in company with the mate and Mr
Frewen.

I told them what I had discovered, and Mr Brymer gave an angry stamp.

"Of course!" he cried. "I might have known. Why, it must be one of our
lads, and a friend. Quick, Dumlow, and have off that hatch."

In another moment or two the sailor was on his knees dragging off the
piece of tarpaulin which had been fastened down over the top, probably
when the storm began, and directly after the hatch was lifted off, and
the lantern held down to throw its light upon a ghastly face, which was
raised to us as a couple of hands grasped the combings around the
opening. I was so astounded that I could not speak, only listen, as
Dumlow shouted--

"I say, what cheer you, my lad?"

And Mr Brymer--

"Walters! Why, my lad, what are you doing there?"

"Help!" groaned my old messmate with a piteous look up at us;
"half-smothered--water--help!"

"Well, mutineer or middy," said Mr Brymer, "there's nothing to fear
from you. Take one arm, Dumlow," and seizing the other himself, they
hoisted Walters quickly out of the little compartment and set him on his
feet; but his legs gave way, and he dropped on the deck and lay upon his
back.

At that moment sounds came up from the hatch, which suggested the
possibility of the mutineers breaking through the heavy bulk-head and
making their way on deck that way, so before aught else was done, the
hatch was securely fastened down again.

While that was in progress, but feeling wroth all the time, I bent down
over the poor, miserable-looking wretch, whose eyes were following every
movement I made, and recalling the shot I had heard fired, I at once
came to the conclusion that he was hurt.

"He