but wait for the coming attack; and as I had been watching for some time
with the glass on the rail, one eye shut, and the other close to the
glass, I suddenly ceased, for my right eye felt dazzled by the glare of
the sun, and I found that Mr Frewen was close beside me.

"Well, Dale," he said, "who will get tired first--these scoundrels of
attacking us, or we of trying to beat them off?"

"They will," I said decisively, as I closed my glass and tucked it under
my arm. "We've got nothing to do but wait; they've got to row miles in
this hot sun, and then they have to fight afterwards. They can't help
having the worst of it."

"Yes; they have the worst of it," he said, smiling.

"And it strikes me they'd be very glad to--Hurray! here's the wind
again."

For the surface of the sea was dappled with dark patches, and long
before the boats could reach us, we were sailing gently away, certainly
twice as fast as their crews could row.

It is astonishing what effect those gentle breezes had upon our spirits.
I found myself whistling and going to the galley to ask the cook what
there was for dinner, and I found him singing, and polishing away at his
tins, his galley all neat and clean, and the dinner well in progress.

"Well, mutineer," I said; "anything good to-day?"

"Oh, I do call that unkind, Mr Dale, sir, and it isn't true. Didn't I
show you as soon as I could that I wasn't one of that sort?"

"Well, yes, you sneaked back when you thought your side was going to be
beaten."

He looked at me fiercely, but smiled the next moment.

"Plain Irish stoo to-day, sir, made out of Noo Zealand mutton, for I
found the onions. There's plenty of 'em. You don't mean what you said,
sir. Just you have a pistol stuck in one of your ears, and be told that
you're not to be a cook and a slave any more, but to join the
adventurers who are going to live in a beautiful island of their own,
where it's always fine weather, and if you don't you're to be shot.
Why, of course I joined 'em, same as lots more did. Any fellow would
rather live in a beautiful island than have his brains blown out."

"I don't know about that," I said shortly. "I wouldn't on Jarette's
terms."

"No, sir, you wouldn't," said the cook; "but Mr Walters would."

As he spoke he lifted the lid off one of his pots, and gave the contents
a stir round.

"Smell that, sir? There's nothing on Jarette's island as'll come up to
that. But, between ourselves, I don