"Well, that what's I am, sir, and always have been. I never was a sensible chap. But are you sure as it ain't broke, sir?" "Certain, Tom." "Then who cares? I don't mind a bit o' aching, and I'm ready for any game you like. What do you say, sir, to trying to captivate the schooner again?" "You and I, Tom?" "Well, it ain't a very strong force, sir, be it?" "We must wait for daylight, Tom, and I hope by then some of the lads will be able to pull an oar." "Ay, ay, sir, o' course." "I'm ready now," said Dick Bannock, with his voice sounding husky out of the darkness; and there was silence, broken only by a groan or two for a few minutes, during which Mark, feeling the terrible responsibility of his position, tried to make some plan as to his future proceedings, but only to be compelled to come back to the conclusion that there was nothing to be done but wait for morning. At one moment insane ideas as to the recapture of the schooner came to trouble him, and this brought to mind what ought to have been his first duty as the officer upon whom the command had suddenly fallen. "Tom Fillot," he cried, excitedly, "go round the boat as carefully as you can, and count the men, ourselves included. We ought to be eleven, ought we not?" "Let's see, sir. Two orficers is two; six AB's and coxswain seven, and seven and two's nine; and the two nig--blacks, sir; nine and two's 'leven. That's right, sir 'leven." "Go round then, and count." "I think they could all answer to their names, sir, now, if I might be so bold." "Call them over, then." "Ay, ay, sir. Here goes, then, lads. First orficer, Mr Russell, sir, and you, sir's, two as we needn't count. Joe Dance, answer to your name." "Ay, ay," came in a growl. "Dick Bannock." "Here." "Bill Billings." "What's left on me, mate." "Sam Grote." "Here, but ain't got no head." "Bob Stepney." "Here; and wish I warn't," came surlily out of the darkness. "Don't you be sarcy 'fore your orficers, Bob, or there may be a row," said Tom Fillot, sharply. "I can't see no orficers, messmate," said the same voice. "That'll do, Bob Stepney. That's cheek. Tim Dunning." "That's me." "All here, sir, and able to use their tongues. Fisties, too, I dessay." "The two blacks!" said Mark, quickly, and with a feeling of thankfulness to find matters so far well. "Ay, ay, sir. Thought I'd give the white uns a chance first," said Tom Fillot. "Now, you two, try and understand plain English. Answer to your names. Soup." There was no reply. "Taters." Still no reply. "Not here?" said Mark, anxiously. "Don't sabbee, p'raps, sir. I'll try again." "Taters." No answer. "Soup." No reply. "Soup and Taters." "Aren't aboard," growled several voices in chorus. "I'm 'fraid the Soup and Taters is done, sir," said Tom Fillot in a low voice. "Oh, man, man, how can you try to joke at a time like this!" cried Mark, angrily.