'It was his doing!' said Jones, pointing to the figure of the dying captain. 'I never wanted it!' 'Anyhow, we're not responsible for _him_,' said Allan, nodding at the body of the mate. 'Who floored the Dutchman?' 'I did!' yelled Maul. 'He's a killed man,' said Scott, stooping to look at him. 'Water,' whispered Captain Glew. Toole's eyes were on the captain at the instant, and the ruffian saw the man's lips move. 'He's spakin'!' he exclaimed, with a face of sudden horror, backing two or three steps. Dabb put his ear to the dying man's mouth. 'He asks for water,' said the seaman; and he sprang to the scuttle-butt and filled a pannikin which stood handily by the side of the dipper, and, lifting Captain Glew's head, he poured some of the cool drink into his mouth. 'Drag me out of the sun,' muttered the captain. 'Mike, len's a hand,' called Dabb; and quite gently these two seamen, who were just now devils, carried the captain aft into the shelter of the awning, where they left him to lie and expire, with the Union Jack rolled up as a pillow. 'I never wanted it! I never wanted it!' suddenly broke out the boatswain, in a deep groaning voice. 'This is a swinging matter. What's to be done? It's damnation to our souls. Why couldn't ye have let the old Dutchman be?' 'His pistol was full cock on you, Jim, when I let fly,' answered Maul. 'He's only stunned. Hasn't a man a right to fight for his life? Look at them barrels!' he added, pointing to the revolver. 'Here comes his daughter,' exclaimed Gordon. Miss Vanderholt was standing in the companion-way. She wore a straw hat, and her eyes, under the shadow of the brim and under the fluff of hair about her brow, looked twice their usual size--strained, unwinking, blind, with sudden, dreadful amazement, but brilliant as light also with horror and terror. She came out of the hatch slowly. Legg, at the helm, with a note of commiseration, said: 'He's only been knocked down. He shouldn't have got messing about with firearms amongst a mob of angry men.' She did not hear him, or, if she did, she did not heed him. She went straight to her father, making a low wailing or moaning noise as she walked. The boatswain exclaimed: 'No harm was intended to him, miss. 'Twas him that shot Mr. Tweed.' She stooped, moaning, but so as to be scarcely audible, and looked closely into her father's face. He lay on his back, staring with white eyes, half-closed, at the sky. He had fallen as though shot through the heart. A great, livid weal, dreadful to see, blackened and lifted his brow. A little blood that had trickled from one ear lay glazed close beside the gray hair of his whiskers. 'Is he dead?' she asked, looking round at the men, and speaking in a voice sunk with fear. 'Let's carry him aft to his cabin. It's not right the young lady should see him lying there,' said Gordon.