"Peril!" repeated Wyzinski, as he stooped over Hughes and moved a knight on the board. "Check to your king and castle--both. It and I are old friends." And Hughes told his tale, while the game proceeded in a most irregular manner. Captain Weber sauntered up, and looked knowingly at the board, though he did not understand anything about it. "Have you spoken to Adams and to Morris?" asked the missionary. "Yes, and they are prepared--and what is better, yonder in the cabin is the arm-chest securely locked. It was a lucky thing I placed it there. The villains are unarmed." "They have their knives--there are eleven of them, and we count how many?" quietly asked the missionary. "Seven," answered the old sailor; "but Adams is still very weak. Will you open yonder chest, pretty one," he continued, for he ever addressed Isabel by that endearing epithet; "will you open yonder chest, and push the revolvers within my reach with your foot." Wyzinski took her place at the chess-board, as Isabel rose to do as she was desired, and the captain having placed a couple of pairs of revolvers in the pockets of his monkey jacket, moved forward among the men, talking and chatting as if nothing was wrong. It was Sunday; the breeze died away towards evening, and the missionary read the service of the day in the makeshift cabin. He possessed a fine, clear voice, and, aware of their great danger, his hearers found the beautiful litany of the church more solemn, perhaps, than usual. To Isabel it was all very strange, but as the sun sank to rest among the ocean waves, she joined in the rites of her husband's creed with a simple, and confiding faith, not understanding them, and night gradually gathered round the crew of the raft. Inured to danger, and now fully armed, one after another of the little party lay down to sleep, and soon all was quiet on board. The wind had fallen, and with it the sea, the motion of the spars becoming less and less. The night was warm, the stars were shining brilliantly, and the moon, in her first quarter, was rising over the ocean, making a long narrow strip of silver on the waves. The sail was raised at the opening of the cabin, and on the planking before it sat Isabel. Her husband's arm was round her, and her head leaned back on his breast, the long hair uncared for, falling on the planks which formed the deck, while the starlight shone on her face, and twinkled in her black eyes. The sail of the raft just drew, but barely so. "How quiet all seems, Enrico; except the splash of the waves, there is not a sound abroad." "Yes, many years hence we may talk of this. Does it not seem strange to be floating about on a few sticks in the middle of the ocean? Hark! do you hear that?" A loud noise, like the blowing off of steam, was heard. "It is a whale, Isabel." "I did not know there were many of them here," said the fair girl, again leaning back, for she had started up in alarm at the noise.