The muffled clang of a hammer broke the silence which had fallen on the

watchers from the ship. Walker had slipped back to his beloved

engines. Had he not vowed that the massive pistons should again thrust

forth their willing arms on or about New Year's day? He had forgotten

the cannibals and their threats ere he was at the foot of the

engine-room ladder. Courtenay and Tollemache joined him; Christobal

went to the saloon to visit his patients; Elsie was left with Mr.

Boyle, who forthwith fell into a doze, being worn out by the fresh air

and the excitement.

Joey, having followed Courtenay to the one doorway in the ship which he

could not enter, trotted back to find Elsie. She greeted him with

enthusiasm.

"Hail, friend," she said. "You, at least, are not jealous if I speak

to your master, wherein you show your exceeding wisdom. Now, since you

and I are persons of leisure, tell me, Joey, what we shall do to make

ourselves useful?"

The dog was accustomed to being spoken to. He awaited developments.

"It seems to me, Joey," she continued, "that Gulielmo Frascuelo is the

one person on board who claims our attention. There is a mystery to be

solved. Bound up in it are my poor Isobel, that beast, Ventana, and a

drunken coal-trimmer. An odd assortment to rub shoulders, don't you

think?"

Joey still reserved his opinion. When the girl went to the forecastle

by climbing down the sailors' ladder to the lower deck, he thought she

was making a mistake; but she held her arms for his spring, and all was

well. She had not previously visited the quarters set apart for the

crew. Puzzled by the large number of small cabins with names of

subordinate officers painted on them, she paused and cried loudly: "Are you there, Frascuelo? May I speak to you?"

An exclamation of surprise, a somewhat forcible exclamation, too,

answered her from an inner berth. Frascuelo had heard from the Chilean

who brought his meals that there was an Englishwoman on board, but he

did not know that she spoke Spanish fluently. He answered her question

politely enough in the next breath, and the dog indicated the right

door by hopping inside.

Frascuelo was reclining on a lower bunk. His injured leg was well on

the way towards recovery, but the wound and its resultant confinement

had chastened him; he had lost the brigandish swagger which was his

most cherished asset.

After acknowledging inquiries as to his progress, he showed such

eagerness for news that Elsie told him briefly what had caused the

latest uproar. She cheered him, too, with the announcement made by the

engineer, and then led him to the topic on which she sought information.

"In some ways, I regard you as most unfortunate," she said. "I have

been told you are here by accident--that you never meant to take the

voyage at all. Is that true?"




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