"P.S. I got a rap on the right hand in the fight, and can't write much." I wrote this with a pencil, and in a style which would pass for anybody's handwriting who had been wounded in a fight. I folded it up, and having placed the four bottles of whiskey in a basket, I asked Marian to deliver them to the cook, while I continued to cough vigorously. I stood at the companion-way while my fair companion did the errand. "Gorrificious, Miss Collingsby!" exclaimed the negro. "Whiskey's plenty as water, but none of it for old Peter." "Take this letter to Mr. Whippleton," added Marian. "Yes, miss. Old Peter'll do that. Can you told me if the letter says how many bottles of whiskey they is in the basket?" "It says four." "Marian," I called to her. "Here is one for Peter." I gave her the extra bottle, and she presented it to the cook, who was more grateful for the gift than he would have been for its value in cash. I am willing to acknowledge that it was against my principles to give liquor to any one; but the probability was, that I should have a battle with the master, who would perhaps be aided by the man; and I regarded the whiskey as an ally of mine, as long as they, and not I, drank it. As soon as Peter had departed, my cough improved, and I ventured on deck again. I was sure that what I had written would make a breeze, when Mr. Whippleton read it, and I tried to prepare myself for whatever might happen. CHAPTER XXII. IN WHICH PHIL IS BEWILDERED, AND THE MARIAN SAILS FOR CHICAGO. "What next, Philip?" asked Marian, when I had seated myself in the standing-room. "That boat will return next with Mr. Whippleton," I replied, picking up the rifle which I had left upon the cushion. "I hope there will be no violence," she added, anxiously. "I hope not; but what shall I do? Shall I let him rob your father of half the capital of the firm? Shall I let him rob his mother of nearly all she has in the world? If I don't strike when I have an opportunity, everything will be lost." "What do you mean by his mother?" "The package which Mr. Whippleton took from the safe was placed in my charge by his mother, to keep it from falling into his hands. She was very sick, and may not live many days. Your father had no idea what a villain his partner was." "I am sure he had not; but can't you manage it without any violence?" "If I can, I will. I have no taste for a fight; but I have still less for letting Mr. Whippleton run away with his ill-gotten gains. I should be ashamed of myself if I did. Besides, your father accuses me of concealing the villany of his partner, and even of being a participator in it. He would have good reason to think so if I let him slip through my fingers now. No, I will not do it. I will follow him to the end of the earth, and if he don't give up his plunder there will be a fight, though I may get my own head smashed in the scrape."