“Well,” said Augusta faintly to herself when she had got her breath back a little, “I am glad that it is over; anyway, I do hope that I may never be called on to nurse the head of another publishing company.” “Auntie! auntie!” gasped Dick, “why do the gentleman shout so?” Then, taking the frightened child by the hand, Augusta made her way through the rain to the other hut, in order to tell the two sailors what had come to pass. It had no door, and she paused on the threshold to prospect. The faint foggy light was so dim that at first she could see nothing. Presently, however, her eyes got accustomed to it, and she made out Bill and Johnnie sitting opposite to each other on the ground. Between them was the breaker of rum. Bill had a large shell in his hand, which he had just filled from the cask; for Augusta saw him in the act of replacing the spigot. “My go!—curse you, my go!” said Johnnie, as Bill lifted the shell of spirits to his lips. “You’ve had seven goes and I’ve only had six!” “You be blowed!” said Bill, swallowing the liquor in a couple of great gulps. “Ah! that’s better! Now I’ll fill for you, mate: fair does, I says, fair does and no favour,” and he filled accordingly. “Mr. Meeson is dead,” said Augusta, screwing up her courage to interrupt this orgie. The two men stared at her in drunken surprise, which Johnnie broke. “Now is he, Miss?” he said, with a hiccough: “is he? Well, a good job too, says I; a useless old landlubber he was. I doubt he’s off to a warmer place than this ‘ere Kerguelen Land, and I drinks his health, which, by-the-way, I never had the occasion to do before. Here’s to the health of the departed,” and he swallowed the shellfull of rum at a draught. “Your sentiment I echoes,” said Bill. “Johnnie, the shell; give us the shell to drink the ‘ealth of the dear departed.” Then Augusta returned to her hut with a heavy heart. She covered up the dead body as best she could, telling little Dick that Mr. Meeson was gone by-by, and then sat down in that chill and awful company. It was very depressing; but she comforted herself somewhat with the reflection that, on the whole, Mr. Meeson dead was not so bad as Mr. Meeson in the animated flesh. Presently the night set in once more, and, worn out with all that she had gone through, Augusta said her prayers and went to sleep with little Dick locked fast in her arms. Some hours afterwards she was awakened by loud and uproarious shouts, made up of snatches of drunken songs and that peculiar class of English that hovers ever round the lips of the British Tar. Evidently Bill and Johnnie were raging drunk, and in this condition were taking the midnight air. The shouting and swearing went reeling away towards the water’s edge, and then, all of a sudden, they culminated in a fearful yell—after which came silence. What could it mean? wondered Augusta and whilst she was still wondering dropped off to sleep again. CHAPTER XI. RESCUED.