fore he knows where he is."

It was weary work in that breathlessly hot cabin, but no one murmured,
and Mark sat gazing out of the window and wondering why their captors
did not set them adrift in a boat, the simple explanation being that
they would have done so had they not dreaded being followed and caught
when becalmed, and then surprised. For it was evident that, for reasons
of his own, the American skipper shrank from leaving the coast, with its
many creeks and rivers, where he could hide or run from pursuit.

It soon became evident that either the other prize had been taken and
sent off, or Dance had managed to effect his escape, for there was no
further sign of her.

Tom Fillot felt bitterly aggrieved.

"He must ha' been a bit flighty still, sir, or he wouldn't ha' done it.
He's gone off with that there craft. I would ha' stood by my messmates
if it had been me."

Night came, with the position unaltered. They were still coasting along
south, and they had full testimony of the fact that their captors did
not mean to give them the slightest chance to escape.

The skylight was tried and the door. There was a discussion as to the
possibility of getting through the bulkhead forward, and one or two
attempts were made, but each time, at the first crack made by the wood,
there was the report of a pistol, and the shattering of the bulkhead
above their heads, plain proof that they were strictly watched by one
who had had orders to fire at the first attempt.

"P'raps we'd best take it coolly, sir," said Tom Fillot, the second
time, "or else put it off till after dark."

Mark nodded, and sat listening to some cries which made their black
companion begin to pant and glare at the cabin-hatch; and Mark himself
felt as if he could have enjoyed lashing with wires the backs of the
scoundrels who treated their black fellows worse than they would have
treated dogs.

Then night came once more, with the resolve to make another attempt to
get on deck; but to their disgust and misery, they found that a lanthorn
was placed upon the skylight, where it would cast down its rays and show
what they were about, and once more when a movement was made to make an
attack upon the door, there came the splintering of glass, a bullet
struck down into the floor, and a sharp report told them how well their
captors were upon the _qui vive_.

"Look here," shouted Tom Fillot, "I know who you are, Mr Skipper.
You'll be hitting some one if y