"Hold a committee meeting," said the entomologist. The others said that was nonsense. Simpkins, who now looked on the geologist as captain of the mutineers, touched his hat to him, and begged leave to speak. "Well," said the geologist, "what is it?" "Ain't some of you gents good at instruments?" asked Simpkins. "For if you are, and if you could get hold of a sextant, it would be doin' things regular if you was to take a sight of the sun." The ethnologist turned to the astronomer. "How humanity yearns for a certain regularity!" he said; "it would really comfort Simpkins if you would squint at the sun through a gaspipe." "You find me the sextant," said the astronomer, "and I'll do it." "What, you?" said Simpkins. "I'd never ha' thought it." Though he could not be induced to say in public why he would never have thought it, in private he revealed to the inquisitive ethnologist that the astronomer looked "the measliest of the whole gang, sir." The discussion, which had been held on deck, with Simpkins at the wheel, was broken up by the captain hammering furiously on his jammed door. "Go down and soothe him," said Simpkins nervously, "and mind you tell him I done nothin' but give in to superior overwhelmin' odds. For so I did, gentlemen, so I did, as you know, bein' those as done it." The committee went below, with the geologist leading. He carried his belaying-pin in his pocket. As they marched, the uproar was tremendous. "What a skull he must have!" said the ethnologist. "I wish I had it in my collection." "So do I," said the pathologist And the authority on philology pressed to the front rank, for Captain Joseph Prowse was doing his best. "Lemme out," he roared; "oh, when I do get out, I'll show you what I am." "Shut up!" said the young geologist, with firmness. The captain gave an audible gasp. "Shut up?" he inquired weakly. "Yes," said the leader, "and give us your sextant, if you have one." "Well, I'm damned," said Prowse, after a long and striking pause. "May I inquire if you've took command? For if so, and you require my services to peel pertaters and sweep the deck, just say so, and let me out." "Will you be civil if we let you out?" asked the astronomer kindly. "Civil?" said Prowse, choking; "what do you think?" "We don't think you will be," replied the astronomer, "from the tone of your voice." "I'm sure he won't be," said the geologist. "I think we'd better keep him where he is," said the rest anxiously; "why, the man's nothing but a raging lunatic." "Oh!" said Prowse from within. "Look here, you mutineers, is Simpkins in this?" "No," said the geologist, who showed a little humour occasionally, "he's out of it. He tried to rescue you, so we hung him. But he came to again, and is now at the wheel. What about that sextant?" "I ain't got no sextant," said Prowse sulkily. He recognised it was no use kicking, and the rum was dying out of his aching head.