The sailor bounded to the ladder, and up on the poop-deck, to spin round the spokes of the wheel; and the next minute, almost before I could grasp what had happened, the sails, which had hung for days motionless, had filled, and we were running free, leaving the two boats and their occupants far behind. "Thank God!" cried a voice behind me, and I turned to see that it was Mr Frewen, who now ran to the entrance of the saloon, where I saw him grasping Miss Denning's and her brother's hands, and I knew he was saying "Saved!" Directly after he was back with us, who were carefully lifting Mr Brymer, while Mr Preddle lay so motionless that I was afraid he was dead. Mr Frewen dropped on one knee, and began to examine the mate, while I watched him with intense eagerness, waiting to hear his words. "It must have been a bad cartridge, or the pistol improperly loaded. It did not pierce the cloth of his cap, and even the skin of the scalp is not broken." "Then it will not be fatal?" I said. "Fatal?--no! There may be a little concussion of the brain. You had better carry him into his cabin, my lads, out of the sun." The cook and one of the men who had returned to their allegiance lifted the mate carefully, and bore him toward the saloon, while Mr Frewen now directed his attention to the naturalist. "I'm not in fit trim for acting as surgeon, Dale," he said. "I'm bubbling over with excitement; my nerves are all on the strain with the struggle I have gone through. But we've won, my lad, thanks to those fellows who came over on our side. Now, Preddle, my good friend, how is it with you? Hah! Only been stunned. A nasty crack on the head though." He parted the hair to show me how the head had puffed up into a great lump; but I had hardly bent forward to examine it, as the poor fellow lay sheltered from the morning sun by the shadow cast by one of the sails, when he opened his eyes, looked vacantly about him, and then fixed them on me, and recognising me, a look of intelligence brightened in his gaze, and he said quietly-- "My fish all right, Dale?" "I--I haven't been to look at them this morning," I stammered, hardly able to keep back a laugh. "I forgot. I went myself," he said. "Of course. But I couldn't find the bellows. You haven't taken them, have you?" "No," I said gently, thinking that he was wandering in his mind. "How tiresome! That water wants aerating badly." "Bellers, sir?" growled Dumlow, who was looking on; "I took 'em to make the kittle bile, and didn't have no time to put 'em back 'cause of the boats coming." "Ah, the boats," cried Mr Preddle, excitedly. "Jarette knocked me down." "And he got knocked down hisself, sir. Reg'lar one for his nob," said Dumlow. "Then we won, Dale?" "Oh yes, we've won," I cried, "and the boats are a couple of miles away." "Let me examine your head again," said Mr Frewen.