For that day the men lived, as Ned put it, on the fat of the land, in addition to the other luxuries figgy duff, a luxury hitherto reserved for Sundays, being also served out to them. Bill was regarded as a big-brained benefactor of the human race; joy reigned in the foc’sle, and at night the hatch was taken off and the prisoner regaled with a portion which had been saved for him. He ate it ungratefully, and put churlish and inconvenient questions as to what was to happen at the end of the voyage. “We’ll smuggle you ashore all right,” said Bill, “none of us are going to sign back in this old tub. I’ll take you aboard some ship with me—Eh?” “I didn’t say anything,” said Tommy untruthfully. To the wrath and confusion of the crew next day their commanding officer put them back on the old diet again. The old meat was again served out, and the grass-fed luxury from the cabin stopped. Bill shared the fate of all leaders when things go wrong, and, from being the idol of his fellows, became a butt for their gibes. “What about your little idea now?” grunted old Ned, scornfully, that evening as he broke his biscuit roughly with his teeth, and dropped it into his basin of tea. “You ain’t as clever as you thought you was, Bill,” said the cook with the air of a discoverer. “And there’s that pore dear boy shut up in the dark for nothing,” said Simpson, with somewhat belated thoughtfulness. “An’ cookie doing his work.” “I’m not going to be beat,” said Bill blackly, “the old man was badly scared yesterday. We must have another sooicide, that’s all.” “Let Tommy do it again,” suggested the cook flippantly, and they all laughed. “Two on one trip’ll about do the old man up,” said Bill, regarding the interruption unfavourably. “Now, who’s going to be the next?” “We’ve had enough o’ this game,” said Simpson, shrugging his shoulders, “you’ve gone cranky, Bill.” “No, I ain’t,” said Bill; “I’m not going to be beat, that’s all. Whoever goes down they ’ll have a nice, easy, lazy time. Sleep all day if he likes, and nothing to do. _You_ ain’t been looking very well lately, Ned.” “Oh?” said the old man coldly. “Well, settle it between you,” said Bill carelessly, “it’s all one to me, which of you goes.” “Ho, an’ what about you?” demanded Simpson. “Me?” inquired Bill in astonishment. “Why, I’ve got to stay up here and manage it.” “Well, we’ll stay up and help you,” said Simpson derisively. Ned and the cook laughed, Simpson joined in. Bill rose, and going to his bunk, fished out a pack of greasy cards from beneath his bedding. “Larst cut, sooicide,” he said briefly. “I’m in it.” He held the pack before the cook. The cook hesitated, and looked at the other two. “Don’t be a fool, Bill,” said Simpson. “Why, do you funk it?” sneered Bill. “It’s a fool’s game, I tell you,” said Simpson.