"I don't get ahead much in talking with Felipe," said he with a laugh. "His English and my Spanish are about on a par. I want to know what there is under the forecastle of the Maud, for I have never looked the boat over very closely." "I can tell you that, sir, without any help from Felipe," replied Louis. "It has a forecastle below deck as well as above. It is a very cunning little apartment, in which there are two berths." "I live in there when I was in Mogadore," interposed the engineer. "Take off the hatch-cover, Felipe;" and the captain and owner followed him to the forecastle. The scuttle was removed, and a sort of step-ladder appeared leading down to the little room. It was dimly lighted by bulls' eyes of glass in the deck; but with the scuttle taken off one could see to read there. "Send Donald, the turkey-buzzard, down here, Mr. Boulong," called the captain; and in a few moments the fugitive descended the steps. "Do you think you could manage to live in such a place as this, Donald?" asked the captain. "Very well indeed, sir; I ask for nothing better than this," replied Donald. "Then you may remain here for the present; but if anybody comes on board from the Fatimé, I shall have the hatch put on, and you can hook it down from below. I think the place is ventilated on either side through the bulkhead." "There is a door on the port side which leads aft to the fire-room," added Louis, who had fully explored the interior of the vessel. The commander led the way to the deck, where he ordered a bucket of water, soap, and towels to be sent to the fugitive. Donald was a young man, not more than twenty-five years old, but about the size of Louis and Scott, both of whom had "got their growth." When Captain Ringgold spoke of clothes for the new man, Louis went on board the ship, and brought back the suit he had worn when he was first taken on board the Guardian-Mother from the sand-spit on the shore of New Jersey. It was a comfortable every-day suit, and he presented it to Donald, with a shirt, collar, and tie. The oiler was deeply grateful to him for the gift, and he was left alone to make his toilet. He had hardly returned to the deck before Mr. Boulong announced that a boat was putting off from the Pacha's steamer. The commander had retired to the cabin, and Louis joined him there. "I suppose you want me out of the way, do you not, Captain Ringgold?" asked he, as he presented himself. "Not at all, Sir Louis," promptly replied the commander. "I may want some orders from you; for, as you can see for yourself, the situation has been wholly changed by the appearance of the steamer of that Mohammedan humbug. I don't care a rap for his religion if he were only a decent fellow; but his record at Funchal is very bad indeed, and I will have nothing to do with him." "Mrs. Woolridge is worrying herself half to death since the Fatimé let go her anchor over there," replied Louis.