"I usurp not nature's kindly office."

"Do you mean to insult me?"

"No; I mean to turn in, for I may be called before I have had my snooze
out;" and Tremere, yawning as if he were bored and very indifferent,
walked into the mess-room which contained his berth.

Those who had listened to the conversation were very much amused by it,
and the rest of the Faithful took their cue from Tremere. Not one of
them would answer a question or give a particle of information in
regard to what had transpired on deck. All of them appeared to be
astonishingly good-natured, and no one seemed to be disconcerted by the
rebellion, except the rebels.

CHAPTER VIII.

SHORT OF WATER.

"They may play bluff as much as they like; but you had better believe
there will be a sensation in the morning, if not before," said
Howe,--after the fifteen members of the Order of the Faithful had
retired to their rooms,--addressing Raymond, who manifested no little
vexation at the cavalier manner in which he had been treated by his
friend and messmate.

"What will that be?" asked the milder rebel.

"Wait, and you will see," replied Howe, mysteriously. "We didn't go
down into the hold for nothing."

"What did you go down for?"

"You will find out soon."

"Well, I want you to understand that I didn't have anything to do with
your plots and schemes," added Raymond, cautiously.

"You didn't! Who said you didn't? I say, Raymond, you are a good fellow
to kiss the hand that smites you; and I hope you will keep on kissing
it. What did you try to pump Tremere for, after you saw what he was up
to?"

"I wanted to know what he was up to."

"Don't you know? It is a game of bluff. Those fellows pretend to be
indifferent to what we are doing."

"They certainly seem to be very indifferent. Have you any idea what
that white ribbon means?"

"Have I? Certainly I have. Can't you see through the side of the ship,
when there's a port in it? That ribbon is to distinguish the lambs from
the black sheep, like you and me."

"Pooh! What's the use of that?"

"So that the officers can tell them in the dark as well as at noonday.
But Little has given those fellows a name already. He calls them the
White Feathers. We must laugh at them, make game of them, whip them
with their own weapons. Hark!" said Howe, suddenly turning his head
towards the kitchen, near the door of which they stood.

"What's the matter?"

"They are trying the pump," replied Howe, as