Daylight, and then glorious sunrise--a big word that for a common sailor, but sailors, as a rule, think a deal of the bright sunshine and the dancing waters. And a bright morning that was, cheering us up all, so that with a grin I went up to Mr Ward and axed his pardon for hitting him; axing too, at the same time, how he found himself after the stab I put in his pocket. But there, instead of laughing, if he didn't turn almost like the fat passenger, for his lip went all of a tremble, and his voice turned husky as he shook me by both hands and says: "God bless you, Roberts, and forgive me for ever doubting so true a man." "Don't you be in a hurry, sir, with your thanks. Maybe we ain't half-done yet. We've divided the ship, and got the deck and a breaker of water, and there's what rum them four didn't finish; but they've got the below-decks and all the prog, unless we can find some anywhere else. We've got the upper hand, but now the question is, can we keep it?" "No, you can't," shouts one of the fellows lying tied on the deck; "so--" He didn't say any more, for Mr Tomtit fetched him a slap on the face with the flat of his cutlash, and then the fellow lay and muttered most savagely. We had a bit of a refresher in the shape of some cold water, with a dash of rum in it; when Mr Ward said that there were some provisions in their cabin below, and volunteered to get them if I stood at the skylight opening with two loaded pistols, to command the door that Van had kept on the outside. I did not much like running any more risks than we could help; but food I knew we should be obliged to have, and if we could get it without attacking Van and his party, so much the better; for though I knew that it must come to that, I wanted to put it off as long as I could, and I was just making ready to go to the skylight with Mr Ward, when there was a shout from Mr Tomtit, and at the same moment a bullet struck the bulwark close to where Miss Bell was sitting. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ STORY TWO, CHAPTER SIXTEEN. Mr Ward sprang like a tiger towards the cabin skylight, where, through a slit in the sailcloth and tarpaulin, you could see a hand holding a pistol twisting about to get back again; but, though it had most likely come through easy enough, the edges of the stiff tarpaulin now closed round the wrist, and though the owner seemed to struggle hard, and having a peephole somewhere, shrieked out as Mr Ward came on, there was no saving the hand, upon which the young doctor's cutlash came down like a streak of lightning, cutting it to the bone, when it was at last dragged through, leaving the pistol upon the deck.