Nothing more was done then, for the mutineers made no further attempt to escape; and in wonderful contrast to what we had gone through, it now fell perfectly calm, with the sun blazing down upon us and the heat intense. Short-handed though we were, matters fell back into the old ship routine, with the exception that the watches kept were against something more serious than the weather. The captain seemed better; and though they were not friendly, there was, it appeared to me, a certain amount of polite intercourse kept up between Mr Frewen and the Dennings, though Mr Denning always appeared to be rather cold and strange during the short time they were together at meals. These the cook served up regularly for the officers, passengers, and men, the two who were at the wheel having settled down in their places with Hampton and his two companions, and had even gone so far as to offer to fight upon our side. They sent the message by Bob Hampton, and he bore it to Mr Brymer, but said to me afterwards with a good deal of screwing up of his honest wrinkled countenance-- "Mr Brymer can do as he likes, of course, Mr Dale, but I should just trust them two chaps as far as I could see 'em." "They'll be all right while we have the upper hand, Bob," I said, "and go against us if Jarette beats us." "That's it, sir. You're as right as you can get. I'm friendly with 'em, of course; but I've got my eyes open, and they don't go nigh that hatch while I'm on deck." "Do you think we can trust the cook, Bob?" I said in a low voice, for we were not far from the galley, which was smoking away as methodically as if there were no such thing as a mutiny on board. Bob gave me a very slow wink. "Suet," he said in a whisper. "What?" "Suet, sir. That's 'bout what he's made on. Sort of soft fat man. There's no harm in him, only softness. Think of a fellow being so scared that he goes and shuts hisself up and drinks hisself into a state o' muddle so as not to know what's going on. Why, if one's got to be drowned, one wants to make a bit of a fight for it. Never say die, my lad. Life in a mussel, you know. Oh, there's no harm in old bile-the-pot, only I shouldn't like to depend on him in a row, though he could do us a lot o' good." "How?" I said, laughing, as I thought of Bob's low estimate of his fighting powers. "Lot of ways, my lad. Cook's got a good many advantages, you see. Red-hot pokers is one; pots and kettles o' boiling water's another, without counting the long sharp knives; but he won't do nothing, and I must. Don't walk too near the wild beasts' cage, my lad, I'm going aft." He went steadily aft to mount the poop-deck, while being near the galley I strolled towards it to have a few words with the man of suet, and as he welcomed me with a simple placid smile, I felt that Bob Hampton's estimate of his character was pretty correct, and that it would be bad policy to trust much to him in a time of peril.