“Because I feel that I am going to die, and I don’t want all this evil charged up against me.”

“And you thought it would not be hard to get the better of a boy like Jack Benson?”

“I thought it would be easy enough,” admitted Truax.  “So did Tip Gaynor.”

“Then it shows you, Truax,” broke in Doctor McCrea, now laughing, “how far below the mark you shot in guessing at Jack Benson’s ingenuity and brains.  For it was he showed me how to induce you to make this confession, voluntarily, after having refused to answer any of the lieutenant commander’s questions.”

“What do you mean?” demanded Sam Truax, quickly, a queer look creeping into his face.

“Why, my man, I mean,” grinned the naval surgeon, “that, when I was first called in to you, you were no more sick than I was.  You were scared, first of all, by the remarks of others.  Then, after we got you to bed in here, we dosed you with ippecac a few times.  That started your stomach to moving up and down until you were convinced that you were a very sick man.”

“What!” now roared Sam Truax, sitting up in the berth and staring angrily.

“Oh, the ippecac was my own choice,” nodded the doctor, “but the general idea was Mr. Benson’s.  My man, with a lad like him you haven’t a one-in-ten chance.”

“So, to work a confession out of me, you’ve poisoned me?” gasped Sam Truax.

“Oh, you’re not very badly poisoned,” laughed Doctor McCrea.  “About the most that you need, now, is to get into your clothes and take a few turns up and down the deck with a marine.  The fresh air will brace you up all right.  I shan’t be surprised if the ippecac leaves you with an appetite after a while.”

“You infernal cheat, you!” roared Truax, starting to get out of the berth.  But the hospital man thrust him back.

“In view of what you’ve just been telling us, my man, you had better be just a bit modest about sprinkling bad names around.” said the naval surgeon, turning on his heel.

He was followed by Lieutenant Commander Mayhew, Jack Benson and Hal Hastings.  On the faces of all three were rather pronounced grins.  The fellow had been caught easily enough.

“Mr. Benson,” cried Doctor McCrea, grasping Jack’s hand when the party had returned to the cabin, “I hope you are my friend?”

“I certainly am, sir,” cried Jack, warmly.

“Thank you,” replied the surgeon, making a comical face.  “With your head for doing things, Mr. Benson, I can’t help feeling a lot safer with your friendship than I would if I had your enmity.”

“How easily the fellow threw everything to the winds!” muttered Mr. Mayhew, in some disgust.

While they were still chatting in the cabin of the gunboat a shot sounded on the deck.  It was quickly followed by another.  Then a corporal of marines rushed in, saluting.

“The prisoner, Truax, sir, escaped while taking a walk on deck under guard of a marine.  He took to the water headlong, sir.  The marine fired after him through the darkness, sir, and a second shot was fired.  The officer of the deck sends his compliments, sir, and wants to know if Truax is to be pursued by men in a small boat?”