engine room, and both vessels went ahead, the
Bronx coming about to her new course.

CHAPTER XVII

A COUPLE OF ASTONISHED CONSPIRATORS

The fog had been very variable in its density, and had been lifting and
settling at times during the day of the capture. By the time the two
vessels were ready to get under way, it had become more solid than
before. The night had come, and the darkness with it, at about the same
time. The lookouts were still in their places; but so far as seeing
anything was concerned they might as well have been in the hold. If the
Arran was still in the vicinity, as no doubt she was, the Bronx might
run into her. Wherever she was, it was well assured that her officers
knew nothing of the capture of the Ocklockonee, for not a great gun had
been discharged, and the combat had been so quickly decided that there
had been very little noise of any kind.

Everything worked without friction on board of the Bronx; and Captain
Passford felt even more elastic than usual. Doubtless the capture he had
just made afforded him a good deal of inspiration; but the fact that the
mystery of the deaf mute and the second lieutenant had been solved, and
the unfathomable catastrophe which their presence on board threatened
had been escaped was a great source of relief.

The two conspirators were disabled and confined to the sick bay, and
they were not likely to make any trouble at present. If they had had any
definite plan on which they intended to act, they had certainly lost
their opportunities, for the visit of Hungerford to the engine room of
the Bronx, no doubt for the purpose of disabling the machinery, and the
effort of Pawcett to warn the officers of the prize, had been simply
acts of desperation, adopted after they had evidently failed in every
other direction.

Pawcett was not really a loyal officer, and his expression and
manners had attracted the attention of both the captain and the first
lieutenant. The deaf mute had been brought on board in order to obtain
information, and he had been very diligent in carrying out his part of
the programme. As Christy thought the matter over, seated at his supper
in his cabin, he thought he owed more to the advice of his father at
their parting than to anything else. He had kept his own counsel in
spite of the difficulties, and had done more to blind the actors in the
conspiracy than to enlighten them. He had hoped before he parted with
the prize for the present