"I believe there are pistols inside, Dale," he whispered. "I'm sure of it," I said. "Open it quick. I'll stand on this side." He now stood between the parcel and the cabin-door so as to shelter our treasure, which was turned out of the canvas the next minute, and proved to be the weapons named, a pair that I remembered to have seen in Captain Berriman's cabin, and with them plenty of ammunition. "Loaded!" whispered Mr Frewen. "Be careful with yours." "Mine?" I said. "Yes; one is for you, and I hope you will not have to use it; but these are stern times, Dale, and we must not be squeamish now." After a few moments' consideration, it was decided to hide one pistol at the foot of the cot, and the other beneath a quantity of drugs in the big medicine-chest which stood in one corner of the cabin. "Hah!" said my companion, smiling for the first time for days. "I begin to feel a little more hopeful now, Dale. You and I are going to take the ship yet. That was Hampton's work, of course?" "Sure to be," I said, and we now began to turn over every plan we could think of for getting our freedom. "I want to do it if I can, my lad, without shedding blood, unless one could not do that without risking life." I could not help shuddering slightly at this. That day passed by slowly and monotonously. We were visited from time to time by Jarette or one of his men, but always with a strong guard outside, in which I noted Blane and Dumlow, but they were not allowed to enter the cabin or hold any communication with us, for they had not originally been of the mutineer party, and Jarette evidently mistrusted them still. I was anxious and excited for fear that orders should come for me to occupy another cabin, but none came, and no more orders for Mr Frewen to see the captain. Toward evening a strong wind arose, which kept Jarette's men pretty well occupied in reducing sail. "The scoundrel must be a good seaman," Mr Frewen said to me that night. "The ship is well handled, you see, and it strikes me that we are going to have a rough night." His words proved true, for now as the ship rose and fell creaking and groaning, and the wind swished through the rigging, I could begin to realise how horrible it was to be shut below there in the darkness, for if those now in command of the vessel proved wanting at some particular crisis of the storm, our fate was sealed. They might try to save themselves in the boats, but they would not stop for us. "What are you thinking about?" said Mr Frewen, suddenly, some time after dark. I started, for we had been silent for some time, listening to the hiss and roar of the waves, and the rough blows given from time to time as some heavy sea struck us and then rushed by. And now that Mr Frewen did speak it was quite aloud, for there was no need for whispering. "I was thinking about what Captain Berriman and Mr Brymer must feel," I said.