s, of course, was in the way, and gave a genteel scream as
Blunt rudely pushed past her with a scarce-muttered apology; but her
maid was standing erect and motionless, by the quarter-railing, and as
the captain paused for a moment to look round him, he saw her dark eyes
fixed on him admiringly. He was, as he said, over forty-two, burly
and grey-haired, but he blushed like a girl under her approving gaze.
Nevertheless, he said only, "That wench is a trump!" and swore a little.

Meanwhile Maurice Frere had passed the sentry and leapt down into the
'tween decks. At his nod, the prison door was thrown open. The air was
hot, and that strange, horrible odour peculiar to closely-packed human
bodies filled the place. It was like coming into a full stable.

He ran his eye down the double tier of bunks which lined the side of the
ship, and stopped at the one opposite him.

There seemed to have been some disturbance there lately, for instead of
the six pair of feet which should have protruded therefrom, the gleam of
the bull's-eye showed but four.

"What's the matter here, sentry?" he asked.

"Prisoner ill, sir. Doctor sent him to hospital."

"But there should be two."

The other came from behind the break of the berths. It was Rufus Dawes.
He held by the side as he came, and saluted.

"I felt sick, sir, and was trying to get the scuttle open."

The heads were all raised along the silent line, and eyes and ears were
eager to see and listen. The double tier of bunks looked terribly like a
row of wild beast cages at that moment.

Maurice Frere stamped his foot indignantly.

"Sick! What are you sick about, you malingering dog? I'll give you
something to sweat the sickness out of you. Stand on one side here!"

Rufus Dawes, wondering, obeyed. He seemed heavy and dejected, and passed
his hand across his forehead, as though he would rub away a pain there.

"Which of you fellows can handle an oar?" Frere went on. "There, curse
you, I don't want fifty! Three'll do. Come on now, make haste!"

The heavy door clashed again, and in another instant the four
"volunteers" were on deck. The crimson glow was turning yellow now, and
spreading over the sky.

"Two in each boat!" cries Blunt. "I'll burn a blue light every hour for
you, Mr. Best; and take care they don't swamp you. Lower away, lads!" As
the second prisoner took the oar of Frere's boat, he uttered a groan and
fell forward, recovering himself instantly. Sarah Purfoy, leani