Boston Charley here took it upon himself to do the best he could in the crisis for the safety of the boys, as Capt. Diaz did not raise his voice in their behalf. In a clear, ringing voice the first officer ordered the helm down and the sails to be lowered, while he threw over the side a couple of hencoops. In a short time the ship's course was altered, and Tommy, who had caught hold of Bobsey's right arm, was under the lee gangway. "Lower a boat there," commanded the officer. "Lower away lively, my lads." "_Carambo!_" cried the captain, rousing himself at last, "who is commander here?" "When you so far forget yourself as you have done," replied Boston Charley, eying him sternly, "it becomes the duty of every man in the ship to let you know that they no longer regard you as their captain." "You mutinous Yankee dog!" screamed the captain, hoarse with passion. "Capt. Diaz," answered the officer, "I want you to know that an American is as good as a Spaniard, and though you are part owner of this vessel, I don't give a snap of the finger for you." The captain brandished the knife threateningly. "Put up that skewer," said the mate, contemptuously. "I'm not a boy." The only reply which Diaz made to this defiant and somewhat irritating speech was to aim a blow at the speaker. But Boston Charley, with the rapidity of lightning, drew a pistol from his pocket and sent a bullet through the fleshy part of the captain's right arm. The knife fell from his grasp, and the injured limb hung uselessly by his side, while its owner reeled against the mast. "I'll have a terrible revenge for this!" hissed the captain between his teeth. Boston Charley paid no further attention to him. The boat had been lowered, and while the altercation was going on the sailors had picked up both Tommy and the wounded boy. They were just in time, for Tommy was nearly exhausted. When Bobsey was laid on the deck Tommy bent over him, peering curiously into his face. The mate took him by the arm and led him away, as his experienced eye told him that the lad was dead. "Oh! don't take me away!" cried Tommy. "He is the only friend I've got." The mate pointed with his finger to the sky. "He has a Friend up aloft, sonny, and that's the only one he will want now," he said. Capt. Diaz had remained in a motionless condition for more than five minutes, but his eyes watched the movements of Boston Charley with the restlessness of a lynx. All at once he stooped down and picked up the knife which had dropped from his hand when the mate shot him. He held it in his left hand, and with a demoniac yell he rushed upon Boston Charley. "Look out!" cried Tommy, who, seeing that Charley had his back turned to the enemy, feared he would be assassinated. Turning sharply around, the mate did not hesitate a moment in drawing out his pistol.