“Time we were on deck, then, Mr. Goddedaal,” said Wicks.

As they turned to leave the cabin, the canary burst into piercing song.

“My God!” cried Carthew, with a gulp, “we can’t leave that wretched bird to starve.  It was poor Goddedaal’s.”

“Bring the bally thing along!” cried the captain.

And they went on deck.

An ugly brute of a modern man-of-war lay just without the reef, now quite inert, now giving a flap or two with her propeller.  Nearer hand, and just within, a big white boat came skimming to the stroke of many oars, her ensign blowing at the stern.

“One word more,” said Wicks, after he had taken in the scene.  “Mac, you’ve been in China ports?  All right; then you can speak for yourself.  The rest of you I kept on board all the time we were in Hongkong, hoping you would desert; but you fooled me and stuck to the brig.  That’ll make your lying come easier.”

The boat was now close at hand; a boy in the stern sheets was the only officer, and a poor one plainly, for the men were talking as they pulled.

“Thank God, they’ve only sent a kind of a middy!” ejaculated Wicks.  “Here you, Hardy, stand for’ard!  I’ll have no deck hands on my quarter-deck,” he cried, and the reproof braced the whole crew like a cold douche.

The boat came alongside with perfect neatness, and the boy officer stepped on board, where he was respectfully greeted by Wicks.

“You the master of this ship?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” said Wicks.  “Trent is my name, and this is the Flying Scud of Hull.”

“You seem to have got into a mess,” said the officer.

“If you’ll step aft with me here, I’ll tell you all there is of it,” said Wicks.

“Why, man, you’re shaking!” cried the officer.

“So would you, perhaps, if you had been in the same berth,” returned Wicks; and he told the whole story of the rotten water, the long calm, the squall, the seamen drowned; glibly and hotly; talking, with his head in the lion’s mouth, like one pleading in the dock.  I heard the same tale from the same narrator in the saloon in San Francisco; and even then his bearing filled me with suspicion.  But the officer was no observer.

“Well, the captain is in no end of a hurry,” said he; “but I was instructed to give you all the assistance in my power, and signal back for another boat if more hands were necessary.  What can I do for you?”

“O, we won’t keep you no time,” replied Wicks cheerily.  “We’re all ready, bless you—­men’s chests, chronometer, papers and all.”

“Do you mean to leave her?” cried the officer.  “She seems to me to lie nicely; can’t we get your ship off?”

“So we could, and no mistake; but how we’re to keep her afloat’s another question.  Her bows is stove in,” replied Wicks.

The officer coloured to the eyes.  He was incompetent and knew he was; thought he was already detected, and feared to expose himself again.  There was nothing further from his mind than that the captain should deceive him; if the captain was pleased, why, so was he.  “All right,” he said.  “Tell your men to get their chests aboard.”