"For the matter of that, Gough, he'll die hard, the old beggar, and some of us will lose the number of our mess."

"All the more gold for them as remains," muttered the man Gough.

"Well, if so be as we are to go in for the yellow boys, why not now?

They're all caulking soundly."

"No, yonder ship may be within hail to-morrow morning, and a fine mess we should be in," answered the ruffian.

Hughes at once became aware that mischief was brewing, and determined to discover what it was. Slowly he dragged himself onwards, inch by inch, until he lay in a position where he could hear well. The two were sitting up, wrapped in their greatcoats, and spoke low and cautiously.

The pale light of day was just breaking over the waves as hours later Hughes regained his position, gently and cautiously. Tired with watching he fell fast asleep, and it was broad daylight when he was aroused by Captain Weber shaking him by the arm.

"Rouse and bitt, my lad," said the old seaman, laughing. "The bare planks seem to suit your humour. We want your place for breakfast."

There was no lack of water round about them, and while he made his hasty toilet the soldier determined on the course to be taken. An attempt to possess themselves of the gold would certainly be made that night, and, as Phillips had said, Captain Weber was not the man to give it up quietly, "I have a few words for you, Captain Weber, before breakfast,"

he said, as that officer pa.s.sed near him.

"Heave ahead, my hearty, I'm not pressed for time," was the reply.

"Have you noticed how sullen the men seemed yesterday, how apathetic they were when the ship went about?" asked Hughes.

"It is the natural consequence of this state of relaxed discipline and idleness," replied the master.

"One more query. Have you not gold in these cases, in some of them at least. Are we not nearing Madagascar?"

Captain Weber turned sharply round, looking the speaker full in the face, and paused a moment as if in astonishment, ere he replied.

"Yes, I have gold dust in some of them, and if yonder ship had only stood on for an hour longer, the dust might have served me to fit out another vessel, and give me another chance; but why do you ask?"

"I lay awake nearly all last night. You know I have always thrown myself before the entrance to the little cabin."

The seaman nodded his head.

"Well, about four o'clock this morning, I heard two of the men talking.

Yonder red-bearded, blear-eyed fellow who is whittling a stick as he whistles, was the princ.i.p.al speaker."

"Ah, Gough," replied the master, "he is the worst character on board; it was Gough tried to persuade the men to break into the spirit-room, when tired of the work at the pumps. I can believe anything of him."

"Well, he held out a dazzling picture of life in Madagascar. He talked of the warm welcome given by the Queen of the island to the English, he painted a life of luxury and ease, instead of one of toil and privation, saying we might sight the island any moment."

"The scoundrel!" muttered the old master between his clenched teeth, "I see it all now."

"He told of the gold on the raft, and how with it they might be kings and n.o.bles in the land. How the wind was dead fair, and they had but to stretch forth their hands to help themselves."

"Not while I live--not while I live, the mutinous scoundrel," growled the seaman.

"You are not intended to live," replied the soldier. "We were all to die, unprepared, and therefore incapable of resistance. Adams and Simmonds were to share our fate, the raft to be seized, and the loss of the brig to cover that of the crew and pa.s.sengers."

"And Dona Isabel?" inquired the captain.

"Was to die to secure her silence," replied Hughes, shuddering.

"A pleasant lot of fellows; and when is this infernal plot to be carried out?"

"Last night was fixed for its execution, but a fear for the return of the ship we saw yesterday prevented it, and now it is determined that it be carried out to-night."

"We may see a sail again to-day, and if we do, we are saved; but again, we may not," muttered the captain, "and we must be prepared for the worst."

"We had better, at all events, show no suspicion, but go to our breakfast as usual."

"I will consult with Lowe; do you tell your old comrade," said the captain, moodily, as the two moved away.

The simple breakfast was laid out before the cabin-door just as usual.

The steward acted as cook, and Isabel superintended her breakfast table on the raft, with all the natural grace she would have shown, had she been in her father's house in sunny Portugal.

Her face was sorrowful, as she advanced to meet Hughes, for yesterday had indeed brought her a cruel disappointment. So sure had she felt of rescue, that the blow had been very severe.

"Did I not tell you, Enrico, all is against us? Oh, I dreamed that the ship we saw yesterday had come back, and so vivid was the dream, that I lifted the sail expecting to see it," she remarked.

The breakfast finished, Captain Weber and his mate rose to consult the chart.

"Wyzinski, help us to clear away, and we will get out the chess-board.

I want to speak to you. You can lean over us as we play."

"What on earth is wrong now?" exclaimed Isabel, fixing her large black eyes on her husband's face.

"Hush, Isabel!" returned Hughes, throwing himself down on the planks, "a great peril hangs over us. If there was a chance of rescue, I would have said nothing about it, but the day wears on, and the horizon is clear."

Isabel looked up. "All seems calm, there is no sign of storm about,"

she remarked.

"Peril!" repeated Wyzinski, as he stooped over Hughes and moved a knight on the board. "Check to your king and castle--both. It and I are old friends."

And Hughes told his tale, while the game proceeded in a most irregular manner.

Captain Weber sauntered up, and looked knowingly at the board, though he did not understand anything about it.

"Have you spoken to Adams and to Morris?" asked the missionary.

"Yes, and they are prepared--and what is better, yonder in the cabin is the arm-chest securely locked. It was a lucky thing I placed it there.

The villains are unarmed."

"They have their knives--there are eleven of them, and we count how many?" quietly asked the missionary.

"Seven," answered the old sailor; "but Adams is still very weak. Will you open yonder chest, pretty one," he continued, for he ever addressed Isabel by that endearing epithet; "will you open yonder chest, and push the revolvers within my reach with your foot."

Wyzinski took her place at the chess-board, as Isabel rose to do as she was desired, and the captain having placed a couple of pairs of revolvers in the pockets of his monkey jacket, moved forward among the men, talking and chatting as if nothing was wrong.

It was Sunday; the breeze died away towards evening, and the missionary read the service of the day in the makeshift cabin. He possessed a fine, clear voice, and, aware of their great danger, his hearers found the beautiful litany of the church more solemn, perhaps, than usual.