trip, Billie," she said, calmly, "with father on a
friend's yacht bound for the Bermudas. We caught fire, and I was the
only one saved, it seems; but how are you here, subordinate to these
men? And you are injured, Billie--you are bleeding! What has happened?"

"The finger of Fate, Florrie, or the act of God," answered Denman, with
a painful smile. "We must have the conceit taken out of us on occasions,
you know. Forsythe, my schoolmate, is in command of this crowd of
jail-breakers and pirates."

"Forsythe--your conqueror?" She receded a step. "I had-- Do you know,
Mr. Denman, that you were my hero when I was a child, and that I never
forgave Jack Forsythe? I had hoped to hear--"

"Oh, I know," he interrupted, hotly, while his head throbbed anew with
the surge of emotion. "I know what you and the whole town expected.
But--well, I knocked him down on deck a short time back, and the
knockdown stands; but they would not allow a finish. Then he shot me
when I was not looking."

"I am glad," she answered, simply, "for your sake, and perhaps for my
own, for I, too, it seems, am in his power."

He answered her as he could, incoherently and meaninglessly, but she
went to her room and closed the door.

CHAPTER IX

Down the wardroom companion came Forsythe, followed by Sampson, who
edged alongside of him as he peered into the after compartment, where
Denman sat on the transom.

"What do you want down here with me?" asked Forsythe, in a snarl, as he
looked sidewise at Sampson.

"To see that you act like a man," answered the big machinist. "There's a
sick woman here."

"And a more or less sick man," answered Forsythe, "that if I hadn't made
sick would ha' had you in irons. Get up on deck. All I want is a
chronometer."

"Under the circumstances," rejoined Sampson, coolly, "though I
acknowledge your authority as far as governing this crew is concerned,
when it comes to a sick woman defended only by a wounded officer, I
shift to the jurisdiction of the officer. If Lieutenant Denman asks that
I go on deck, I will go. Otherwise, I remain."

"Wait," said Denman, weakly, for he had lost much blood. "Perhaps
Forsythe need not be antagonized or coerced. Forsythe, do you remember a
little girl at home named Florrie Fleming? Well, that woman is she. I
appeal to whatever is left of your boyhood ideals to protect this woman,
and care for her."

"Yes, I remember her," answered Forsythe, with a bitter smile. "She
thought you w