"Can that mean treachery?" said Dutch doubtfully; and, going to their berths, he read the words softly to the captain and Mr Parkley, and asked their opinions as well as that of the doctor. "No," said the latter; "that's no treachery, but from a friend." "I see it all," whispered Dutch, with his face flushed with joy. "What do you mean?" said the captain. "I knew old Oakum and Rasp could not be such scoundrels. Their behaviour was all a blind. They are our friends." "That must be it," acquiesced the others; and it was decided not to send any message back, but to let the bird go. This was done, and that day the divers steadily worked on with old Rasp, who was closely watched by the Cuban, tyrannical to a degree, while Oakum never once looked at them. Sand, rock, and what was harder to move, namely, masses of coral, were dragged away that day, and the Cuban's impatience was somewhat alleviated on the sight of a few more stray ingots, forerunners of what he hoped to get later on, and again night put an end to their labours, the tired divers, who on this day had been helped by the captain, doctor, and naturalist, all working like common sailors, and watched by armed men. They were up and waiting beneath the cabin skylight the next morning before the day broke, and once more came the bird with a welcome message. It was very brief, but it gave them hope in the midst of their despair, for it ran as follows:-- "You'll get no more writing, for it ar'n't safe-like, friends working for all on you. Never mind, lads, watch under cabin light till something comes." This was enigmatical, but it set them on their guard, and they worked that day more cheerfully, feeling that a plot must be on foot for their rescue, Dutch's only fear, as he gazed at the two women, being that it might come too late. That night Dutch, weary as he was, himself watched beneath the cabin hatch, but many weary hours passed without anything but the talking of the watch being heard; and at last he felt that at all hazards he must sleep, when he started, for something round and soft suddenly fell through the open light upon his head, and feeling about on the floor his hand came into contact with a handkerchief, in which something soft was tied up. A powder evidently--yes, gunpowder. He stood pondering with about a couple of pounds of the combustible in his hand, thinking of what power it would have if exploded, and longing for the battery and the dynamite cartridges, as he thought that if matters came to the worst he would blow up the ship sooner than the women should suffer insult.