efore had escaped
from a deadly peril, and were now for aught they knew sailing straight
away into one as great.

They formed a strong contrast to the old men-of-war's men, who retained
their well-drilled bearing as the crew of the schooner, eager, alert,
and ready at any moment to spring to sheet and brace at the mate's
orders when they went upon another tack.

"No," replied Poole, after a long interval. "There's a shoal of fish
out yonder, and something sprang out farther to the east and went in
again with a splash, and there's a bad sign out yonder; cat's-paws on
the surface."

"You don't mean to say that it looks like a calm coming?"

"Just like that," said Poole slowly, with the glass still at his eye.

"Well?" rose from the deck, as the two chiefs came slowly back.

"Nothing, father--not a sign," cried Poole. "Well, you needn't stop up
there, my lad. Come down, and go up again in a quarter of an hour's
time."

Poole slipped the glass into the case slung from his left shoulder, laid
hold of a rope, and looked at his companion, who did the same, and they
slid down together and dropped upon the deck, to begin walking forward.

"I shan't be sorry," said Poole quietly, "when all these fellows are
ashore."

"Nor I neither," replied Fitz, and then he turned his head sharply, for
a familiar head was thrust out of the galley, where the stove was black
and cold.

"Weel, laddies," whispered the Camel, "I have had to put up the shutters
and shut up shop, for I canna pretend to feed all this lot; but ah'm
thenking ye'll feel a bit hungry now and then, and when ye do, joost go
below into the cahbin when there's naebody looking, and open the little
locker. I dinna mean to say another word, but--" He closed one
ferrety-looking red eye, laid a finger alongside of his nose, showed his
big teeth, and drew his head in again.

"A nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse," said Poole, laughing.
"Well done, Camel! But that's all you, Fitz."

"Nonsense! It was a hint for both."

"No. He has taken a fancy to you. He told me himself he had, and that
it was his doing that you got up your strength so quickly."

"Oh, gammon!" cried Fitz petulantly.

"No, it was what he calls his pheesic. He told me that when a man was
in bad health--crenky, he called it--that the thing to pull him round
was soup; and you know how he was always scheming something of the kind
for you. I shouldn't like to analyse too strictly what h