“This foul conspiracy,—­will they put it in execution to-night?”

“I heard the villain they call Vernon, an hour ago, engage a deck hand to help him row the boat.”

“Then there is indeed danger.  I had thought Maxwell’s wound would have prevented it for a season.”

“A mere scratch.  I would your ball had found the villain’s heart, if he has one.  But Vernon is the most dangerous man—­a more accomplished villain.”

“Vernon,” said Henry, musing; “he was Maxwell’s second.”

“Yes.  That duel was a plot to murder you.”

“How so?”

Hatchie explained the plan of Vernon, which had been rendered futile by his precaution.

“The scoundrel! but how knew you this, and how happens it that I escaped while he is wounded?” said Henry.

“I overheard the plot when I did the other.  Vernon is a common robber.  He came into the hold to conceal a bag of money he had stolen.”

“A bag of money!” interrupted Henry, his thoughts diverted from the subject.

“Ay, a bag of money.”

“Do you know where they hid it?”

“I do; but why do you ask?” and Hatchie was much pained to discover in Henry what he mistook for a feeling of rapacity.  He wanted and expected the perfection of an angel in the man who sustained the relation of lover and protector to his mistress.

“Because I have been robbed of all I had in the world,” replied Henry, seeing the shade upon Hatchie’s brow.

“Indeed!” exclaimed the mulatto, his doubts removed, and pleased in being able to restore his money.

“The money is undoubtedly mine.  Your noble devotion to your mistress has thus proved a fortunate thing for me.  But about the pistols?”

Hatchie related the means he had used to derange Maxwell’s plan.

“I shall never be able to repay the debt I owe you,” said Henry, warmly, as the mulatto finished his story.

“I did it for my mistress’ sake.  I learned that you were her friend.”

“And she will bless you for the act.”

“Now, what shall be done to insure her safety to night? for they will attempt her abduction, I doubt not.”

It was arranged that Henry should watch in the vicinity of Emily’s state-room, while Uncle Nathan, Hatchie and Pat Fegan, should occupy the lower deck.  Emily was not to be informed of the danger; it would distress her to no purpose.

They had no doubt of their ability to protect her.  Accustomed as Henry was to danger, perhaps he did not fully appreciate that which was now gathering around Emily.  He felt that, in knowing the particulars of the nefarious scheme, he was abundantly able, even single-handed, to prevent its success.