An Unexpected Catastrophe. If Captain Dilke feared that the Swan would endeavor to escape, he was entirely mistaken. As the two vessels drew near together, he was greatly surprised to see Sandy and Shaky instead of Arno and Jason. Sandy was at the tiller of the Swan and Martin held the wheel of the Petrel. Stifling his curiosity, Captain Dilke gave his orders, and soon the two vessels lay side by side, Shaky making the sloop fast to the schooner. Then Captain Dilke leaped on board the Swan, leaving Martin on the Petrel, both vessels drifting with the wind. "How did you come in possession of this craft?" demanded Captain Dilke, striding aft to where Sandy stood. The Scotchman made no answer, and Captain Dilke repeated his question. At this moment some one grasped him by the arm, and, turning, he met the angry gaze of Judith. Vainly he strove to break away. Her arms were like bands of steel, and pinioned his own close to his side. Then he was thrown to the deck, a handkerchief tied over his mouth by the Scotchman and his arms and legs bound with a stout cord, rendering his struggles utterly useless. After this he was half-dragged down the companion-way and left, lying helpless, upon the cabin floor. While this was transpiring on board the Swan, Shaky had boarded the Petrel. Martin greeted him surlily, as he came aft. "What's the row on the sloop?" asked Martin. "I heard a scuffle of some kind, but couldn't see what was going on from here." "Nothing," replied Shaky, his grimacing and stammering having deserted him entirely, "only a slight change in commanders. You are now under my orders." At this Martin flushed angrily and took a step toward the man who had addressed him with so much confidence. Then his face changed, his eyes dilated, his hands fell nervelessly by his side. Fear took the place of anger. "You are--it can't be," he gasped, staring into the face of the man before him. "You remember me, I see," replied the other, coolly. "They call me Shaky; but you are right." "Does Captain Dilke know who you are?" asked Martin, whose bearing was now one of abject humility. "Not yet; but he will know soon enough. Just at present he is in a somewhat uncomfortable predicament. The last I saw of him, your wife and Sandy were dragging him down into the cabin of the Swan." At this Martin's face turned fairly livid. "Is Judith on board?" he gasped. "I'll do anything you say, only be merciful. It was so many years ago, and I have been sorry for it a thousand times." "I see you are quite repentant now," smiled the man, whom we will still call Shaky. "Here comes your wife now. We had a long tramp through from your home to Whiting, though she stood the journey as well as any of us." Martin looked up and saw Judith coming toward him, and he stood like a guilty boy expecting the punishment which he knows he richly merits.