I walked forward hardily enough; I had drunk my fill of terror, and could have faced the Captain had he been thrice as formidable.  He did not help me at all, but stood with a thunderous frown, very quiet and self-restrained, while I plodded my way up to him, over the sand.

I think that, as I drew close, my battered appearance must have shocked him a little.  But his frown did not relax, and the muscles of his mouth grew, if anything, tenser.

“You appear to have been in the wars,” he said quietly.  “Has anything happened to the schooner?”

“No, sir; at least not to my knowledge,” was my answer; and he must have; expected it, or he would have shown more perturbation.  “I saw her, not five minutes ago, lying at her moorings,” I added, with a nod towards the bend of the creek which hid her from us.

“Then why has Miss Belcher sent you?”

“She did not send me, sir.”

“In other words, you have chosen to disobey orders?”

I suppose he read some sullenness in my attitude, for he repeated the words sharply, in a tone that demanded an answer.

“I am sorry, sir; but all the same, it didn’t seem fair to me to be left on board without being consulted.”

I heard him take a short breath, as though my impudence him in the wind.  For a full half a minute eyed me slowly up and down.

“Get into your boat, sir, and return to the ship at once!  Mr. Rogers, this child is impossible.  I must do what I would gladly have avoided, and ask the ladies to give me more authority over him, since they will not exercise it themselves.”

At the implied sneer—­and perhaps even more at the tone of it, so foreign to the Captain Branscome that I knew—­I blazed up wrathfully.

“If you mean by that,” said I, “to threaten me with the rope’s-end, I advise you to try it.  And if you mean that I’m child enough to be tied to apron-strings of a couple of women, that’s just of a piece with the whole mistake you’re making.  No one’s disputing your right to give orders—­”

“Thank you,” he put in sarcastically.

“—­To those,” I went on, “who appointed you captain.  But I wasn’t consulted, and until that happens, I shall obey or not, as I choose.”

Now, this, no doubt, was extremely childish, even wickedly foolish, and the more foolish, perhaps, because a few minutes ago I would have given all I possessed, including my prospective share in the treasure, for Captain Branscome’s protection.  But somehow, since sighting the island, I had lost hold of myself, and my temper seemed to be running all askew.  Strange to tell, the Captain appeared to be affected in much the same way.

“Why, you little fool,” said he, “are you mistaking this for a picnic?”

“No,” I retorted; “I am not.  And, if you’ll remember, it wasn’t I who led the ladies to look forward to one.”

He planted himself before me, and said he, looking at me sternly—­