The skipper vanished, to reappear a minute or two later with a sack into which he had hastily thrust a few lumps of coal and other rubbish. The mate took it from him, and, placing the slipper on the deck, stood with one hand holding the wheel and the other the ridiculous sack. “Now,” said the skipper. The sack went overboard, and, at the same moment, the mate left the wheel with an ear-splitting yell and rushed to the galley for the life-belt which hung there. He crashed heavily into Joe, who had rushed on deck, but, without pausing, ran to the side and flung it overboard. “Skipper’s overboard,” he yelled, running back and putting the helm down. Joe put his head down the fore-scuttle and yelled like a maniac; the others came up in their night-gear, and in a marvellously short space of time the schooner was hove to and the cook and Joe had tumbled into the boat and were pulling back lustily in search of the skipper. Half an hour elapsed, during which those on the schooner hung over the stern listening intently. They could hear the oars in the rowlocks and the shouts of the rowers. Tim lit a lantern and dangled it over the water. “Have you got ’im?” cried Ben, as the boat came over the darkness and the light of the lantern shone on the upturned faces of the men. “No,” said Joe, huskily. Ben threw him a line, and he clambered silently aboard, followed by the cook. “Better put about,” he said to the mate, “and cruise about until daylight. We ain’t found the belt either, and it’s just possible he’s got it.” The mate shook his head. “It’s no good,” he said, confidently; “he’s gone.” “Well, I vote we try, anyhow,” said Joe, turning on him fiercely. “How did it happen?” “He came up on deck to speak to me,” said the mate, shortly. “He fancied he heard a cry from the water and jumped up on the side with his hand on the rigging to see. I s’pose his bad foot slipped and he went over before I could move.” “We’ll cruise about a bit,” said Joe, loudly, turning to the men. “Are you giving orders here, or am I?” said the mate sternly. “I am,” said Joe, violently. “It’s our duty to do all we can.” There was a dead silence. Tim, pushing himself in between Ben and the cook, eyed the men eagerly. “What do you mean by that?” said the mate at last. “Wot I say,” said Joe, meeting him eye to eye, and thrusting his face close to his. The mate shrugged his shoulders and walked slowly aft; then, with a regard for appearances which the occasion fully warranted, took the schooner for a little circular tour in the neighbourhood of the skipper’s disappearance. At daybreak, not feeling the loss quite as much as the men, he went below, and, having looked stealthily round, unlocked the door of the state-room and peeped in. It was almost uncanny, considering the circumstances, to see in the dim light the skipper sitting on the edge of his bunk. “What the blazes are you doing, dodging about like this?” he burst out, ungratefully.