were a strange, new thing to him, as if he had never breathed deeply and truly the good air of God till now.  He had big affectionate impulses; he felt that the sailors were fine fellows, his shipmates cheerful souls.  He would have liked to shake hands all round and assure them of his friendship, but sailors and passengers were full of their own affairs, and took no notice of him.  For two days past there had been much whispering amongst the crew and the men under contract to work the ship that had been left crewless in Australian waters.  Done detected an undercurrent of excitement, and noticed many guarded consultations.  That there was some conspiracy afloat he was convinced, but the plotting was conducted in so cheerful—­even hilarious—­a spirit that he suspected no evil.

The ship was anchored off Queenscliff to bide the coming of the noisy, grimy, paddle-tug engaged to tow her wearily into Hobson’s Bay, and up to her berth by the primitive river wharf.  And now speculation and curiosity were awakened in the cabins by the peculiar conduct of Captain Evan in stationing armed sailors along the ship, larboard and starboard.

Shortly after, Done, who was watching developments with keen interest, saw a Scandinavian seaman named Jorgensen steal over the side, and slip into the sea like a porpoise.  Jorgensen struck out for the shore, swimming under water for the most part, till he had covered a distance of about two hundred yards from the ship.  Others, including the armed sailors, had witnessed Jorgensen’s escape, but no one spoke.

Nearly an hour passed, and then Jim saw that two boats were coming towards them from a distant point.  At the sight of these there was a rush of sailors.  No orders had been given, but a score of men busied themselves lowering the Francis Cadman’s boats, laughing at their work and joking uproariously.  Others came singing and yelling from the forecastle and up through the hatchways, with bundles which they piled on the deck.  All order was abolished; the jubilant cries of the sailors were echoed back from the shores over the placid sea.

Captain Evan stood upon the deck, pale with passion, gesticulating furiously, shouting orders that no one heard.  Every time he opened his lips the sailors responded with louder yells of cheerful derision.  Evan rushed at one of the armed sailors, cursing heroically.

‘Fire on them!  Fire, I tell you!’ he cried.

The man paid not the slightest heed, and Captain Evan, snatching the gun from his hands, levelled it at the boatswain.

‘Down on your knees, you mutinous dog!’ he thundered.

The boatswain grinned amiably, and thrust his finger into the barrel of the piece.

‘By the holy, we’ve spiked your gun, Captain!’ he said.