"You're right," said the Cuban. "At daybreak, then." "Daybreak it is," said Sam, giving his trousers a hitch; and taking out a little silver pipe, he blew a shrill note. "All hands ahoy!" he roared, and as the men collected, he set to work clearing away the lumber, coiling ropes ship-shape, hoisted a boat that had been down over the side, and then altered his mind and had it lowered again. "We shall want it for towing her head round in the morning," he said, and so busied himself so as to have everything well forward, while the Cuban looked on with an approving eye. "You shan't be forgotten for all this, Sam Oakum," he said. "Thankye, capen, thankye," said Sam, as the Cuban walked forward, and the old sailor filled a pipe for an extra luxury, just as it was getting dark. "Here, you black-faced son of a coal-hole, give's a light," cried Sam, loudly, as he went to the galley where 'Pollo was busy preparing tea for all on board. "Yes, Mass' Oakum," said the black, flinching from a blow aimed at him as he spoke, when, to the poor fellow's horror, Sam seized him by the scruff of the neck, pushed his head into an open barrel, and whispered: "Don't you make a sound, 'Pollo, old man. It's all my larks. Don't laugh, you lubber, but get your biggest carving knife, and hide here in the middle watch: there's a game on, my lad, and I want you to help to retake the ship." "Oh, golly, Mass' Oakum, sah, dat I will; I bress de lor', sah, you not big rufiyun affer all. I bress de lor'." "Hush! hold your tongue, lad. Mum's the word. Now then, you black nigger, look alive with that grub," he said aloud. "I'm 'most starving." He came out puffing away at his pipe as the Cuban came slowly along the deck, looking suspiciously at Sam, who, however, did not seem to heed his look, but fixing himself on the bulwark, with his legs under him, and his arm round one of the shrouds, he half-shut his eyes, and smoked away as if with real enjoyment, blinking at the shore, and all the while ripening his plans for the fierce work to be undertaken that night. STORY ONE, CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. PRISONERS. Meanwhile, to Hester's horror, she found that they were to be prisoners in Laure's cabin, and that the drunken scoundrel who shared it with him kept coming down blinking and leering at them, making their very blood run cold. His offensive manner was, however, for the time stopped by the Cuban, who came down, and pointing to the inner cabin bade them go in there. Their only course was to obey, and the two trembling women crouched together, dreading the coming night, and yet hoping that some successful effort would be made for their release. "Let us hope and pray, Bessy," said Hester, trying to be cheerful, in spite of her misery. "Dear old Rasp's words were not uttered without meaning." "But is he to be trusted?" sobbed Bessy; "he was with our enemies."