“Is ’is little bed made?” inquired the cook anxiously. “’Is little bed’s just proper,” said Dick, patting it. “We won’t bathe him to-night,” said Sam, as he tied a towel apron-wise round his waist; “it ’ud be too long a job. Now, ’Enery, come on to my lap.” Aided by willing arms, he took the youth on to his knee, and despite his frantic struggles, began to prepare him for his slumbers. At the pressing request of the cook he removed the victim’s boots first, and, as Dick said, it was surprising what a difference it made. Then having washed the boy’s face with soap and flannel, he lifted him into his berth, grinning respectfully up at the face of the mate as it peered down from the scuttle with keen enjoyment of the scene. “Is the boy asleep?” he inquired aggravatingly, as Henry’s arms and legs shot out of the berth in mad attempts to reach his tormentors. “Sleeping like a little hangel, sir!” said Sam respectfully. “Would you like to come down and see he’s all right, sir?” “Bless him!” said the grinning mate. He went off, and Henry, making the best of a bad job, closed his eyes and refused to be drawn into replying to the jests of the men. Ever since he had been on the schooner he had been free from punishment of all kinds by the strict order of the skipper—a situation of which he had taken the fullest advantage. Now his power was shaken, and he lay grinding his teeth as he thought of the indignity to which he had been subjected. CHAPTER XI He resolved that he would keep his discovery to himself. It was an expensive luxury, but he determined to indulge in it, and months or years later perhaps he would allow the skipper to learn what he had lost by his overbearing brutality. Somewhat soothed by this idea, he fell asleep. His determination, which was strong when he arose, weakened somewhat as the morning wore on. The skipper, who had thought no more of the matter after giving his hasty instructions to the cook, was in a soft and amiable mood, and, as Henry said to himself fifty times in the course of the morning, five pounds was five pounds. By the time ten o’clock came he could hold out no longer, and with a full sense of the favor he was about to confer, he approached the unconscious skipper. Before he could speak he was startled by a commotion on the quay, and looking up, saw the cook, who had gone ashore for vegetables, coming full tilt towards the ship. He appeared to be laboring under strong excitement, and bumped passers-by and dropped cabbages with equal unconcern. “What on earth’s the matter with the cook,” said the skipper, as the men suspended work to gaze on the approaching figure. “What’s wrong?” he demanded sharply, as the cook, giving a tremendous leap on board, rushed up and spluttered in his ear. “What?” he repeated. The cook, with his hand on his distressed chest, gasped for breath. “Captain Gething!” panted the cook at last, recovering his breath with an effort. “Round the—corner.”