we go into port," added Little, desperately.

"Why, what can you do?"

"We are not more than ten or fifteen miles from the coast of Spain. If
we could only drop a boat into the water, I would risk getting ashore."

"You can't do that."

"Fluxion has turned in now. Cleats and Bitts have the next watch,"
continued Little, suggestively.

"They won't let you off."

"Bitts goes to sleep; and Cleats may go below for something," said
Little, dropping his voice to a whisper. "We will talk it over
to-morrow with Perth and Herman."

"But you can't do anything."

"Perhaps we can," answered the little villain; but there was not much
of his usual elasticity of spirits in his tones.

Ibbotson had no faith, and did not even care to talk about what seemed
to him such an impracticable scheme. At four bells they were relieved,
and the night wore away without any incident. All the following day the
Josephine kept in about the same position with regard to the shore,
running rapidly to the southward. Mr. Fluxion "made no sign," and the
acting officers were as reticent as ever.

"Perth, I have an idea," said Little, as they met on deck.

"So have I," replied the disgusted leader of the runaways. "I have an
idea that we are going round the world. This is our third day out, and
no signs of turning back."

"I mean that I have a plan."

"You always have a plan," added Perth, with a sickly grin.

"If you don't want to hear it, all right; but I mean to get out of this
scrape, if I can."

"So do I. If we don't do something we shall be the laughing-stock of
the whole ship's company, if we ever join them again, of which I have
some doubts. Lowington has hauled us up to the bull-ring this time, if
he never did before. He has the weather-gage of us."

"That's so."

"If you have a plan, let's hear it."

"O, I won't trouble you with it. You don't think much of my plans."

"Yes, I do. I regard you as a genius in that line. You gave us the plan
by which we got off in the Josephine."

"This little thing is for our four fellows only," continued Little,
mollified by the credit awarded to him.

"All right; propel."

"We are only ten or fifteen miles from land. This is Portugal off here,
I suppose."

"Yes; we shall be off Cape Roca to-night, if the wind keeps up, and I
think we go within five or six miles of the shore."

"So much the better."

"Well, what's up?" asked Perth, with a yawn which indicated that he had
not much hope