The other two felt that their time had come. At first they had watched the proceedings with great interest, which gradually changed to dismay, and finally gave place to absolute terror. That Christian was to be hanged or drowned, they did not in the least doubt; and just as he was ducked for the third time, Oscar gave a yell and broke from his guards, who were absorbed in watching the rites. He ran to the main rigging and darted up it as though Satan were at his heels. The guards were about to pursue, when they remembered Josef, and the latter’s break for liberty was nipped in the bud. Neptune, the Mermaid and attendants now came aft, and many volunteers presented themselves to bring Oscar down from the top-mast head, whither he had climbed with an alacrity entirely foreign to his nature. The royal personages consulted together and announced that Josef would be “finished” before Oscar was taken in hand. So everybody gathered about the throne; even the cat, who sat gravely upon her haunches and licked her chops as though desiring another canary. A number of ridiculous questions were propounded to Josef, who had a very imperfect knowledge of English, and made worse work than Christian in answering them. He was hurried to the chair, and the tar-bucket again brought into requisition. Meanwhile Miss Pitkin had inspected the store-room thoroughly, and now came up the companion-way with a comfortable sense of duty performed. She scanned the horizon line for a sail, took a look at the compass, and then started to find her brother. There he was on the poop, and she ascended thither. “Why, what is the matter, Charles? Why are all hands in the waist? Oh, I remember,—Neptune.” The captain was relieved at seeing his sister smile, and began to hope that she was rallying from the grief and ill-temper into which the canary’s death had thrown her. Suddenly, through the crowd of figures pressing around the throne, she caught a glimpse of the Mermaid. Surprise at sight of this extraordinary vision kept her silent a moment, when she called out: “Mr. Rivers, what is that creature,—man or woman?” The Mermaid’s wit got the better of her discretion, and she answered, before the mate could reply, “Neither one, ma’am: I’m ’alf and ’alf, like the ale and stout we mix together in Liverpool, or like one of those morphodite {183} brigs, that’s part brig and part schooner.” The crew respectfully fell back at sight of Miss Pitkin, and the nymph was exposed to view. Rose instantly detected the deception, and in spite of the cleverly disguised voice, her feminine facility for jumping at conclusions told her that Mike was the speaker. Without knowing why, she was as absolutely certain of this fact as of her own name. Then she recognized the dressing jacket! The lady could hardly believe the evidence of her senses; but it was not her habit to remain in doubt if it could be avoided, and she hurried from the poop to verify her suspicions.