onse very
naturally had no scruples to overcome. He could only look on the fate
of the captain as a just retribution on his tyranny.

"Oh, yes, yes! I play the fiddle," he exclaimed; "I go get it--I play
for you all."

Not waiting for an answer, he ran towards the nearest hatchway, and
passing near Paul, inquired for Devereux and O'Grady.

"Safe," whispered Paul, and the young Frenchman dived below.

He speedily returned with his faithful violin, and without waiting to be
asked, began to play. The hearts of all his hearers were too heavy to
allow them to be influenced as under other circumstances they would have
been by the music, but it served in a degree to calm their fierce
passions, and to turn them from their evil intentions. Of the principal
officers of the ship the master alone had hitherto escaped destruction.
He was no coward. He had seen with horror the murder of his messmates
and captain, but life was sweet, and when offered to him, even on terms
degrading, undoubtedly--that he would navigate the ship into an enemy's
port--he accepted them. The few warrant and petty officers who had
escaped being killed, at once declared their intention of acting as the
master had done.

"It's fortunate for you, mates, that you don't belong to the brood who
grow into captains," exclaimed Hargraves, fiercely. "I, for one, would
never have consented to let you live if you had."

Paul trembled for the fate of his friends when he heard these
expressions, for Hargraves looked like a man who would put any threats
he might utter into execution. Order was somewhat restored, officers
were appointed to keep watch, and the ship was put on the course for the
port to which it was proposed she should be carried. The crew had once
been accustomed to keep a sharp look-out for an enemy; they now kept a
still more anxious watch to avoid any British cruiser which might
approach them. Day and night they were haunted with the dread of
meeting their countrymen. Paul overheard some of the ringleaders
consulting together.

"There are only two things to be done; if we can't run from them, to
fight it out to the last, or to kill all those who won't swear to be
staunch, and to declare that they died of fever," said one of them in a
low, determined voice.

"Ay, that's the only thing for it," growled out another; "I'm not going
to swing for nothing, I've made up my mind."

"Swing! who talks of swinging? None of that, Tom," exclaime