The boat put out from the side and headed for the beach. When half-way there, the rowers overtook the captain's boat and secured it. Then, instead of resuming their journey, they turned deliberately about and rowed back. The boats were both hoisted to the davits and quietness again reigned on the schooner. The stupefied spectators on the beach felt as though they had taken leave of their senses. "Well, of all the----" raged Captain Hamilton, when he was interrupted by the sound of a shot fired on the schooner. Two others followed in quick succession. Then came a roar of voices. A moment later a man leaped from the mizzen shrouds over the rail. He was shot in midair, and those ashore heard his shriek as he threw up his arms and disappeared in the still heaving waters of the lagoon. "Mutiny!" roared Captain Hamilton. "Yes," echoed Tyke; "mutiny!" Horror was stamped on every face. One blow had been succeeded by another still more crushing. It was now not only a question of the loss of the schooner. Their very lives might be threatened. "That scoundrel, Ditty!" gasped the captain. "It's too bad we pulled Allen off him the other day," ejaculated Tyke savagely. "We ought to have let him finish the job." "Thank God we've got the weapons anyway!" exclaimed Captain Hamilton. "Don't think that he hasn't got some too," warned Tyke. "You heard those shots. No doubt the rascal's got all the guns and ammunition he wants. You can gamble on it that he isn't figuring on fighting us with his bare hands." The captain turned to Rogers and the boat's crew. "What do you know about this, Mr. Rogers?" he said quietly. "Can we count on you?" "That you can, Captain," replied Rogers heartily. "I only know what I've told you before, sir." "And how about you, my lads?" Captain Hamilton continued, addressing the boat's crew. "Are you going to stand with your captain?" There was a chorus of eager assent. Not one of them flinched or wavered, and indignation was hot in their eyes. "Good!" cried the captain approvingly. "I knew you'd sailed with me too long to desert me when it came to a pinch." "That makes ten of us altogether," observed Tyke Grimshaw. "Eleven," put in Ruth. "Don't forget me." "Eleven," repeated the master of the _Bertha Hamilton_, looking at her fondly. "You're a true sailor's daughter, Ruth. I'm proud of you, my dear." "Eleven," said Drew. "That leaves twenty-five on the ship, including Ditty." "Twenty-four," put in Tyke. "There's one less than there was a few minutes ago." "Yes," agreed the captain sadly. "And I've no doubt the poor fellow was killed because he wouldn't join the rest of the gang. Twenty-four, then. That's pretty big odds against eleven."