"Nobody could possibly be hanging on there," I thought, as I tried to pierce the mist of spray; and I felt that if low down on the stays, he would be dipped at every plunge, and drowned in a few minutes, and if higher, to a certainty, unless lashed to the ropes, be washed off. I stayed some minutes, hailing again and again, with my voice carried forward by the wind, and then made my way back to my two companions, whose faces were turned inquiringly toward me as I shook my head. "There can't be any one there," I said. "It's impossible." "So Mr Brymer thought," said Mr Preddle. "He said he would be either washed off or drowned, and that it must be one of the men below." "There it is again," said Mr Denning; "and it is below." "Yes; there!" I cried, for there was a heavy banging at a bulk-head, and some one shouted savagely to whoever cried for help to be quiet, and then a shot was fired, but not at us. "The wretches!" I said. "The wretch!" said Mr Denning. "That was Jarette's voice, I'm sure; and he must have fired." "At some prisoner they have there below," I said. "Or at the wounded man," cried Mr Preddle. "It must be another wounded man then, for you heard the sound before you fired that shot." "Yes; and it makes me feel better satisfied, for the mutineers are such brutes--such savage brutes." "There!" I cried; "do you hear?" for once more the cry for help came so piteous, faint, and despairing that it seemed to go through me from head to heel in one long, continuous shudder. "If it hadn't been for what we heard just now," said Mr Preddle just then, "I should have been ready to think it was something uncanny-- something ghostly; but," he added hastily, as Mr Denning turned a mocking face to him, "I don't think so now." "It's very horrid," I said; "and the worst of it is that one can't do anything. I wish we could send Mr Frewen to help the poor fellow, whoever it is." "Yes, it is horrible," said Mr Denning; "but they made us suffer so that I feel hardened against them. It must be a wounded man." "Why," I cried, as a flash of mental light just then illumined my thick brain, "I know!" I was so excited by my discovery, which was one of those simple finds that the wonder was it had not been thought of at once, I could hardly contain myself, and I made for a swinging lantern and took it down. "What is it? What have you found out?" cried Mr Denning at the top of his voice, though it only sounded feeble then in the din of the storm. "It's some one in the cable-tier," I cried. "Cable-tier? Where's that?" "Just forward. Front of the forksle," I shouted. "We must get the hatch off." "No, no; not till Mr Brymer comes," said Mr Denning.