“Supposing he won’t?”

“Then we’ll have to bloomin’ well make him,” he replied.

“And when you got there,” I said.  “What then?  You’d be jolly well locked up for mutiny.”

“I’d sooner be locked up,” he said.  “It don’t kill you!”

There was a murmur of agreement from the others, and then a moment of silence, in which, I know, the men were thinking.

Jaskett’s voice broke into it.

“I never thought at first as she was ’aunted—­” he commenced; but Plummer cut in across his speech.

“We mustn’t ’urt any one, yer know,” he said.  “That’d mean ‘angin’, an’ they ain’t been er bad crowd.

“No,” assented everyone, including the chap who had come to call us.

“All the same,” he added.  “It’s got to be up hellum, an’ shove her into the nearest bloomin’ port.”

“Yes,” said everyone, and then eight bells went, and we cleared out on deck.

Presently, after roll-call—­in which there had come a queer, awkward little pause at Toppin’s name—­Tammy came over to me.  The rest of the men had gone forrard, and I guessed they were talking over mad plans for forcing the Skipper’s hand, and making him put into port—­poor beggars!

I was leaning over the port rail, by the fore brace-lock, staring down into the sea, when Tammy came to me.  For perhaps a minute he said nothing.  When at last he spoke, it was to say that the shadow vessels had not been there since daylight.

“What?” I said, in some surprise.  “How do you know?”

“I woke up when they were searching for Toppin,” he replied.  “I’ve not been asleep since.  I came here, right away.”  He began to say something further; but stopped short.

“Yes,” I said encouragingly.

“I didn’t know—­” he began, and broke off.  He caught my arm.  “Oh, Jessop!” he exclaimed.  “What’s going to be the end of it all?  Surely something can be done?”

I said nothing.  I had a desperate feeling that there was very little we could do to help ourselves.

“Can’t we do something?” he asked, and shook my arm.  “Anything’s better than this!  We’re being murdered!"

Still, I said nothing; but stared moodily down into the water.  I could plan nothing; though I would get mad, feverish fits of thinking.

“Do you hear?” he said.  He was almost crying.

“Yes, Tammy,” I replied.  “But I don’t know!  I don’t know!”

“You don’t know!” he exclaimed.  “You don’t know!  Do you mean we’re just to give in, and be murdered, one after another?”

“We’ve done all we can,” I replied.  “I don’t know what else we can do, unless we go below and lock ourselves in, every night.”

“That would be better than this,” he said.  “There’ll be no one to go below, or anything else, soon!”

“But what if it came on to blow?” I asked.  “We’d be having the sticks blown out of her.”