races and see that all's fast--be back in a few minutes."

He went on deck, leaving Stanley busy with the chart.

"You're a smart boy, Billy. Now do as I tell 'ee, and keep your weather
eye open. D'ye see that bit o' floating wreck a-head? Well, keep
straight for that and _run right against it_. I'll trust to 'ee, boy,
that ye don't miss it."

Billy said that he would be careful, but resolved in his heart that he
_would_ miss it!

Jones then went aft to a locker near the stern, whence he returned with
a mallet and chisel, and went below. Immediately thereafter Billy heard
the regular though slight blows of the mallet, and pursed his red lips
and screwed up his small visage into a complicated sign of intelligence.

There was very little wind, and the sloop made slow progress towards the
piece of wreck although it was very near, and Billy steered as far from
it as he could without absolutely altering the course.

Presently Jones returned on deck and replaced the mallet and chisel in
the locker. He was very warm and wiped the perspiration frequently from
his forehead. Observing that the sloop was not so near the wreck as he
had expected, he suddenly seized the small steersman by the neck and
shook him as a terrier dog shakes a rat.

"Billy," said he, quickly, in a low but stern voice, "it's of no use. I
see what you are up to. Your steerin' clear o' that won't prevent this
sloop from bein' at the bottom in quarter of an hour, if not sooner! If
you hit it you may save yourself and me a world of trouble. It's so
much for your own interest, boy, to hit that bit of wreck, _that I'll
trust you again_."

So saying, Jones went down into the cabin, apologised for having kept
Stanley waiting so long, said that he could not leave the boy at the
helm alone for more than a few minutes at a time, and that he would have
to return on deck immediately after he had made an entry on the log
slate.

Had any one watched Morley Jones while he was making that entry on the
log slate, he would have perceived that the strong man's hand trembled
excessively, that perspiration stood in beads upon his brow, and that
the entry itself consisted of a number of unmeaning and wavering
strokes.

Meanwhile Billy Towler, left in sole possession of the sloop, felt
himself in a most unenviable state of mind. He knew that the crisis had
arrived, and the decisive tone of his tyrant's last remark convinced him
that it would be expedient fo