Although they were witnesses to the subsequent rescue of Bill by the black sheik, and the momentary release of the old sailor from his tormentors, it did not increase their confidence in the crew who occupied the encampment. From the way in which the old salt appeared to be treated, they could tell that he was regarded by the hosts into whose hands he had fallen, not as a guest, but simply as a "piece of goods," just like any other waif of the wreck that had been washed on that inhospitable shore. In whispers the three mids made known their thoughts to one another. Harry Blount no longer doubted the truth of Colin's statements; and O'Connor had become equally converted from his incredulity. The conduct of the women towards the unfortunate castaway, which all three witnessed, told like the tongue of a trumpet. It was cruel beyond question. What, when exercised, must be that of their men? To think of leaving their old comrade in such keeping was not a pleasant reflection. It was like their abandoning him upon the sandspit, to the threatening engulfment of the tide. Even worse: for the angry breakers seemed less spiteful than the hags who surrounded him in the Arab camp. Still, what could the boys do? Three midshipmen, armed only with their tiny dirks, what chance would they have among so many? There were scores of these sinewy sons of the desert, without counting the shrewish women, each armed with gun and scimitar, any one of whom ought to have been more than a match for a mid. It would have been sheer folly to have attempted a rescue. Despair only could have sanctioned such a course. In a whispered consultation it was determined otherwise. The old sailor must be abandoned to his fate, just as he had been left upon the sandspit. His youthful companions could only breathe a prayer in his behalf, and express a hope that, as upon the latter occasion, some providential chance should turn up in his favour, and he might again be permitted to rejoin them. After communicating this hope to one another, all three turned their faces shoreward, determined to put as much space between themselves and the Arab encampment as night and circumstances would permit. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. A CAUTIOUS RETREAT.