"By Jove, I think there is something in what you say, my boy," cried the lieutenant, moving away at once in the direction indicated as quickly as he could, telling the coxswain to follow him. "I ought to have overhauled the cabin before. The sea is getting up again, I notice; and, we'll soon have to shove off from here if we wish to get back to our own ship again!" The moment the Spaniard saw Mr Jellaby start off on this mission, he drew a deep breath of satisfaction. "Buena, buena--good, good!" he murmured softly, as if talking to himself. "Soy muy mal--I feel very ill!" He then threw up his arms and dropped down as if he had been shot, Corporal Macan just catching him in time, crying out in a loud tone as he fell, louder indeed than he had yet spoken, as if giving a peremptory order-- "Fonde el ancla!" "Begorrah, I can't say to his ankles!" said the Irishman, not understanding of course what he said, and mistaking the sound of the words. "Till him they're all right, sor. Faix it's all I can do to hould his arms, let alone his legs, sure!" "Nonsense, Macan," I cried, not able to keep from laughing. "He didn't say anything about his ankles, or legs either." "Thin, what did he say, sor, if ye'll excuse me for axin?" "`Fonde el ancla,'" I replied, "means, you donkey, to `let go the anchor!'" CHAPTER NINETEEN. MUTINY OR MURDER? "Poor fellow!" said Dr Nettleby, on my thus translating the Spaniard's exclamation for Corporal Macan's benefit. "I'm afraid he has dropped his anchor in real earnest." "Oh, doctor," I cried, "you don't mean that he is dead?" "Not quite yet, but pretty nearly so," he replied, feeling the man's pulse again and then putting his hand to his heart. "I do wish Jellaby would come out of that cabin; for, I should like to take our patient to the ship at once and put him under treatment without further delay as he's in a very bad way. I can't think what's keeping the lieutenant so long!" "Shall I go and see, sir?" "I wish you would, my boy. Really, I don't like the look of the weather at all!" "Faix, sor, naythor does I, sure," I heard the corporal say as I turned to go in search of Mr Jellaby, who having made his way to the after part of the vessel, with the coxswain, had been out of our sight now for some time. "It'll be blowin' great guns in a brace of shakes, or I'm a Dutchman, for the say is gettin' purty rough already, an', begorrah, it's wishin' I wor safe aboord the ould _Candahar_ agen, I am; ay, an' alongside ov the cook's galley sure!"