ATHERTON'S first impulse was to regain his feet and jump overboard. By so doing he knew that he would run no personal risks, since Bill and his companion in crime could not possibly capture him, even if they went to the length of leaping into the sea dressed as they were, in their clothes and sea-boots. But, on the other hand, the Scout realised that, if discovered, the confederates of the rascally butler would make haste and clear off in the yacht, and the whole chance of capturing both the rogues and their booty would receive a serious set back. With these thoughts flashing through his mind, Atherton pulled several folds of the staysail over his recumbent form, as, fortunately for him, the slothful crew had lowered the sail and had neglected to stow or even secure it. His chief anxiety was that Phillips, finding that his companion had not followed him, would climb on board again, or, equally as bad, raise a premature alarm. Second Phillips was made of the right stuff. Since Atherton had not called for aid he felt convinced that his Leader was still keeping Bill under observation. Holding on to the bob-stay, and keeping close to the bows of the yacht, Phillips waited, chin deep in water, either till the expected shout for assistance came or else till Atherton got clear of the mysterious craft. With many muttered curses the truculent Bill ascended the short companion-ladder and gained the deck. Pulling back the hatch he remained by the companion, his gaze directed towards the frowning cliffs by the Tea Caves. "Two more cursed hours!" muttered the man, loudly enough for the Scout to overhear. "Wot's 'e got to be afraid of I should like to know. Well, any'ow, to-night'll see the last o' the swag safe aboard." Atherton felt a quiver of excitement pass through his frame. If the silver were to be recovered the opportunity was at hand. There was little time to be lost. To send for the assistance of the local police and the coastguards might result in the scoundrels "getting the wind of it." It must be the Scouts to whom the credit of recovering Sir Silas Gwinnear's plate must fall. The seaman was coming for'ard. From his place of concealment, Atherton could hear his heavy footfall upon the yielding deck. Would it be possible that the fellow had any suspicions that some one in addition to his mate was on board? In any case the Scout realised that he must evade capture. Nearer and nearer came the man. Atherton prepared to spring from his hiding-place arid leap into the sea, but to his great relief Bill turned on his heel and retraced his footsteps. "He's going to pace the deck for the next hour or so, I suppose," thought Atherton. "A nice pickle we are in: Phillips shivering in the water and I doing ditto under a damp sail." But Atherton was wrong in his surmise. The fellow took two or three turns up and down the deck, gave another glance shorewards and then whispered to his companion to "douse the glim again."