“Vos you hurted much?” asked Hans.

“Not a scratch, my hearty, only it broke my pipe, one my brother gave me afore I sailed, an’ one I wouldn’t have taken a month’s pay for,” concluded Bahama Bill.

An hour later Songbird, who was on the deck of the steam yacht, composing poetry in the darkness of the night, saw the old tar coming toward him.  Bahama Bill was groaning deeply.

“What’s the matter?” asked the would be post.

“Oh, I’m a burnin’ up on my inside!” answered the old tar, and gave a deep groan.  “I want a doctor, I do!”

Seeing Bahama Bill was really sick, Songbird went to his assistance and called Mr. Rover.  Then Captain Barforth was consulted and he gave the man some medicine.

“It’s queer I took sick so quick,” said Bahama Bill, an hour later, when he felt better.

“What did you eat and drink?” asked Anderson Rover.

“I ate a tongue sandwich—­one o’ them was handed around awhile ago.  I put it in my bunk room when I got it and ate it on going to bed.  It made me sick the minit I downed it.”

“I ate one of those sandwiches and it didn’t hurt me,” said Fred.

“Yah, and I vos eat two of dem,” put in Hans.  “Da vos goot, doo!” and he smacked his lips.

“Perhaps you ate something earlier in the day that didn’t agree with you,” said Captain Barforth; and there the talk ended, and Bahama Bill retired once more.

Less than an hour later came a commotion on the steam yacht.  Two men were evidently fighting and the voice of Bahama Bill was heard.

“I’ve caught ye!” he bellowed.  “No, ye ain’t goin’ to git away nuther!” And then came a crash as some article of furniture was tipped over.

A rush was made by Mr. Rover, the boys and several others, and to the astonishment of all Bahama Bill was discovered on the deck locked arm in arm with Walt Wingate, who was doing his best to break away.

“Wingate, you rascal!” shouted Anderson Rover, and caught the deck hand by the collar.

“Let me go!” yelled the fellow, and struggled to free himself.  He held a pistol in one hand and this went off, but the bullet merely cut the air.  Then the weapon was taken from him.

“So you are still on board, eh?” roared Captain Barforth, when he confronted the man.  “What have you to say for yourself?”

“I—­er—­I haven’t done anything wrong,” was Wingate’s stubborn reply.

“Oh, no, of course not!”

“He came at me in my sleep,” cried Bahama Bill.  “He had something in a little white paper and he was trying to put it into my mouth when I woke up an’ caught him.  I think he was going to poison me!” And he leaped forward and caught the prisoner by the throat.

“Le—­let up!” gasped the deck hand.  “It—­it’s all a mis—­ mistake!  I wasn’t going to poi—­poison anybody.”

“Maybe he vos poison does sandwiches, doo,” suggested Hans.  “I mean dose dot made Bahama Pill sick.”