Below they found all the officers gathered.  Captain Parkinson was pacing up and down in ill-controlled agitation.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “we are facing a problem which, so far as I know, is without parallel.  It is my intention to bring the schooner which we have in tow to port at Honolulu.  In the present unsettled weather we cannot continue to tow her.  I wish two officers to take charge.  Under the circumstances I shall issue no orders.  The duty must be voluntary.”

Instantly every man, from the veteran Trendon to the youthful paymaster, volunteered.

“That is what I expected,” said Captain Parkinson quietly.  “But I have still a word to say.  I make no doubt in my own mind that the schooner has twice been beset by the gravest of perils.  Nothing less would have driven Mr. Edwards from his post.  All of us who know him will appreciate that.  Nor can I free myself from the darkest forebodings as to his fate and that of his companions.  But as to the nature of the peril I am unable to make any conjecture worthy of consideration.  Has anyone a theory to offer?”

There was a dead silence.

“Mr. Barnett?  Dr. Trendon?  Mr. Ives?”

“Is there not possibly some connection between the unexplained light which we have twice seen, and the double desertion of the ship?” suggested the first officer, after a pause.

“I have asked myself that over and over.  Whatever the source of the light and however near to it the schooner may have been, she is evidently unharmed.”

“Yes, sir,” said Barnett.  “That seems to vitiate that explanation.”

“I thank you, gentlemen, for the promptitude of your offers,” continued the captain.  “In this respect you make my duty the more difficult.  I shall accept Mr. Ives because of his familiarity with sailing craft and with these seas.”  His eyes ranged the group.

“I beg your pardon, Captain Parkinson,” eagerly put in the paymaster, “but I’ve handled a schooner yacht for several years and I’d appreciate the chance of——­”

“Very well, Mr. McGuire, you shall be the second in command.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You gentlemen will pick a volunteer crew and go aboard at once.  Spare no effort to find records of the schooner’s cruise.  Keep in company and watch for signals.  Report at once any discovery or unusual incident, however slight.”

Not so easily was a crew obtained.  Having in mind the excusable superstition of the men, Captain Parkinson was unwilling to compel any of them to the duty.  Awed by the mystery of their mates’ disappearance, the sailors hung back.  Finally by temptation of extra prize money, a complement was made up.

At ten o’clock of a puffy, mist-laden morning a new and strong crew of nine men boarded the Laughing Lass.  There were no farewells among the officers.  Forebodings weighed too heavy for such open expression.