"The boys are balkin', that's why," growled Ditty. "They're like you--afraid of that rotten old volcano." "Blime me! Hand wye wouldn't they be scare't hof hit?" snarled the Cockney. "That bein' the general feelin'," Ditty said calmly, "why we'll stick to my plan. Let the old man dig it up hisself and bring it aboard. "It'll save us the trouble, won't it? And mebbe we can git rid of some of the swabs, one at a time----" "Huh!" chuckled Bingo. "One's gone halready. Hi see yer bloomin' scheme, Bug-eye." "Well, then," said the mate, rising from his seat, "keep it to yourself and take your orders from me, like the rest does." "Hall right, matey, hall right," said Bingo, and likewise stood up. Drew dared remain no longer. He stole away to the stern and stood for a while, looking over the rail into the black water--no blacker than the rage that filled his heart. He felt half tempted to attack the treacherous Ditty with his bare hands and strangle the rascal. But he knew that this was no time for a reckless move. There were only himself, the captain, and Tyke to face this promised mutiny. Probably they could trust Rogers, and some few of the men forward might be faithful to the after-guard. The uncertainty of this, however, was appalling. After a time he went below and rapped lightly on the captain's door. The commander of the _Bertha Hamilton_ opened to him instantly. He was partly undressed. "Eh? That you, Mr. Drew?" "Sh! Put out your light, Captain. I'll bring Mr. Grimshaw. I have something to tell you both," whispered the young man. "All right," said the captain, quick to understand. His light was out before Drew reached Tyke's door. This was unlocked, but the old man was in his berth. Long years at sea had made Tyke a light sleeper. He often said he slept with one eye open. "That you, Allen?" "Yes. Hush! We want you in the captain's room--he and I. Come just as you are." "Aye, aye!" grunted the old man, instantly out of his berth. The light was turned low in the saloon. Drew did not know whether Ditty had come down or not; but unmistakable nasal sounds from Mr. Roger's room assured him that the second officer was safe. Tyke, light-footed as a cat, followed him to Captain Hamilton's door. It was ajar, and they went in. The commander of the schooner sat on the edge of his berth. They could see each other dimly in the faint light that entered through the transom over the door. Captain Hamilton had drawn the blind at the window. "Well, what's up?" he murmured. Drew wasted no time, but in whispers repeated the conversation he had overheard between Bingo and the mate. When he had finished, Tyke observed coolly: "I'd 've bet dollars to doughnuts that that was the way she headed. Now we know. Eh, Cap'n Rufe?" "Yes," grunted the captain. "What shall we do?" asked Drew. "Do? Keep on," Captain Hamilton said firmly. "What d' you say, Tyke?"