"Sarve him right. Wonderful island indeed! This galley's good enough island for me. You didn't mean that, Mr Dale, sir. I got out of the scrape as soon as I could, and so did those other three lads as come aboard with me; and we'll all fight jolly hard to keep from getting into it again. I believe that some of the others would drop the game, and be glad to get back on board, if they weren't afraid of Frenchy, as we call him. That man's mad as a hatter, sir." "That's a true word, cookie," growled Bob Hampton. "You smell good, mate, but I wish you'd keep your door shut. It makes me feel mut'nous, and as if I wanted to turn pirate and 'tack the galley." "Wind going to hold good, Bob?" I said, moving off. "Arn't seen the clerk o' the weather this mornin', sir, so can't say." "Jarette's mad--Jarette's mad," I repeated to myself as I left the galley, and found Mr Preddle, with his head very much swollen and tied up in a handkerchief, blowing away into the water where his fish still survived. "I shall get some of them across after all," he said, with a nod. "I hope so," I replied; and after a look at the far-distant boats--mere specks now--I went on aft to have a chat with Mr Denning, who lay on a mattress in the shade, with his sister reading to him; but there was his loaded gun lying beside him, to prove that it was not yet all peace. I stopped to sit down tailor-fashion on the deck and have a chat with them both, feeling pleased to see how their eyes lit-up, and what smiles greeted me; and somehow it seemed to me then that they felt toward me as if I were their younger brother, and they called me by my Christian name quite as a matter of course. "If the wind would only keep on!" Miss Denning said. "Or if Mr Preddle would only use those bellows of his on the sails," said her brother, smiling. "Why, you're ever so much better," I said quickly, "or you wouldn't joke like that." "Yes," he said with a sigh, "I feel better. Mr Frewen's doing me good, or else it's this lovely soft, warm air." "Oh, we shall have him running ashore in New Zealand like a stag, Miss Denning," I cried, getting up. "Don't go yet," she said. "I must," I cried. "I want to stop, but Mr Brymer uses me now as his tongue and fists. I have to give all his orders to the men." I went to where the mate was seated, received his orders, had them executed, and then met Mr Frewen coming out of Walters' cabin. "Oh, there you are, Dale," he cried. "Go in and talk to that poor wretch for a few minutes. You must try and cheer him up, or he'll die, as sure as I'm here." "Oh, I say, don't tell me that," I cried. "I don't like him, and I think he behaved horridly, but I don't want him to die." I hurried into my messmate's cabin, and found him lying there so ghastly and strange-looking that I shivered, and began to move on tip-toe. "Come and sit down a minute, Dale," he said in a weak voice; and I at once seated myself close to his bunk. "Want some water?"