A half-muffled cheer broke from the port watch and many of the starboard who had jumped from their bunks in anticipation of a royal set-to. The rover turned and snapped out, "Fetch a bucket of water, one of you." A dozen men rushed to obey. Bending over the senseless urchin, Jack gently wiped the blood and red lead from the little white face; then, with the tenderness of a woman, he picked the boy up in his arms and carried him to his bunk. There he skilfully doctored the long cut on the boy's forehead, first washing it, and then drawing the edges together with sticking-plaister zigzagged across it, whilst the starboard watch looked on in admiration of his handiwork. Luckily for the poor little waif, his short life of hardship and want had so toughened him that, with the exception of a bad bruise, his ribs were intact. "Poor old Dandy!" were the first words the kid spoke after coming to, and the tears rushed to his eyes as the lonely feeling of his loss came over him. "Never mind the cat, sonny. I reckon Jack Derringer's done saved your life; if it hadn't been for Jack, you'd a' been hittin' the trail after Dandy yourself," said old Bedrock Ben. "And that ain't no bloomin' josh. Jack put the skybosh on the 'ulkin' bully, and no mistyke. Crikey, if it weren't the 'ighest old rig to see Black Davis spifflicated. "''Ow's that, umpire?' sez I. "'W'y, h'out, er course!' and away walks 'is bloomin' lordship, fairly 'oodooed." Thus the cockney, with a chuckle of delight. "Did Derringer save me from the mate? I don' remember nothink. Black Davis slugged me, didn't he?" the boy asked faintly. "If standing up between the mate an' you lying senseless, and daring Black Davis to touch you, isn't saving you, I don't know what is," said Curly hotly. "Oh, shut up, you fellows, and leave the boy alone," growled Jack. "It's just eight bells, and Jim's going to lie quiet and get some sleep. "Do you hear that, Jim?" he continued; "you're not to stir from your bunk till I give you leave. Green'll do your 'peggy' for you, eh, Green?" The man nodded nervously in assent. "That's _bueno_! Now shut your eyes, sonny, and take a siesta." The boy's brown eyes glowed with a wealth of gratitude and a dog-like look of adoration as they rested upon Jack's stalwart figure; but the rolling-stone was a martinet of a doctor--not a word would he allow above a whisper in the foc's'le until the kid was asleep. It was the cockney's wheel when the watch changed, and at four bells, six o'clock, he came forward, his face eloquent with news. "H'I've found 'im out, byes, h'I've found 'im out!" he shouted incoherently to the group of men seated yarning on the fore-hatch and spare spars, and he pointed wildly at the rolling-stone. "What's he done now?" rumbled half a dozen deep voices. "Wyte, me bloomin' ole shellbacks, lemme tell the yarn." "Well, pipe ahead; we ain't stoppin' ye," growled Red Bill.