vas not touch him meinselfs, I vas not
lay von hand upon hims."

"Then what in thunder air becom' of him?"

"He wer gone a-ridin', cap," said the man who had previously spoken,
proceeding to explain what had occurred. "He came down drunk out of the
ship and went abusin' Mr Steenbock as never sed a word to him, and then
struck him with a spade, nigh killing him. So we tumbles him over in
the water theer to stop his doin' any more mischief, for he wer that mad
as he looked to murder the lot of us."

"And then, boss," went on Jim Chowder, as he told up, taking up the
story, "ez he were pretty well wet with his ducking, we lashed him on to
the back of a tortoise ez come by, an' sent him up in the hills, fur to
dry hisself, `ridin' a cock horse to Banbury Cross' like!"

At this the hands laughed again, and the skipper, whom they now surmised
must have been drinking again when away on his prospecting tour, became
perfectly furious; for he turned quite white, while his billy-goat beard
bristled up, as it always did when he was angry.

"This air rank mutiny!" he shouted, drawing his revolver and pointing it
at Jim Chowder; "but I'll soon teach ye a lesson, ye skunks. Hyar goes
fur one o' ye!"

Jan Steenbock, as on a previous occasion, however, was too quick for
him; for he knocked the weapon out of his fist, and then gripping him in
a tight grasp, threw his arms round the captain's body.

The skipper foamed at the mouth, and swore even worse than Mr Flinders
had done just before; but, presently he calmed down a bit, and sat down
on the ground--shaking all over, as soon as Jan had removed his grip,
though keeping close to him, to be on the watch for his next move, as he
expected him to have one of his old fits again.

But the convulsions seemed to pass off very quickly; and the captain,
looking like himself again after a few moments, jumped to his feet.

He then stared round about him, as if searching for something or some
one, evidently forgetting all that had just happened.

Suddenly his eyes brightened.

"Thaar he is!" he cried, "thaar he is!"

"Who, sir?" asked Jan, seeing his gaze fixed in the direction of the
cactus grove, behind which the mate had vanished on his
tortoise--"Mistaire Vlinders?"

"No, man, no," impatiently cried the skipper; "I wanted him to come with
me, but ez he's not hyar, ye'll do ez wa-all, I reckon. It's the black
buccaneer cap'en I mean, thet I met jest now, over thaar in the val