They were coming up into the cabin! I was lost!! Stay; was there not time to reach the companion and fly on deck? No. My faintness vanished instantly, being put to flight by the new and greater horror which presented itself. The discovery of the captain’s death had unhinged me, but the approach of my own death braced my nerves and spurred my limbs into immediate action; for without an instant’s hesitation I sprang into the dead man’s berth and hid behind the corpse, placing myself between the dead skipper and the side of the vessel. The head and shoulders of the giant came upward through the trap, but it was too dark for him to discern anything. Oh, for a pistol! I could then have defied the villains, who would have been caught like rats in a trap of their own setting. The head suddenly disappeared, but presently made its reappearance, and the lantern was handed from below and stood on the cabin floor, while I in my hiding-place quaked with fear, imagining that I should now for a certainty be discovered and slaughtered. Here was a contrast to the cosy bar-parlour of the “Jolly Waggoner”; but I could give but little thought even to my dear old dad, knowing that my life hung on a mere thread. My eyes were riveted on the gigantic head and shoulders emerging from the floor. The lantern came first through the trap, and was swung aloft by the brawny arm of the giant, who looked around beneath it. He gazed steadfastly at the face of the dead man by my side to see if any movement was apparent. The dead man hid and saved me, for the giant quietly pronounced one word, “Rats!” and then he and the lantern vanished below again. Here was a dilemma for me to be in! What should I do? To lie where I was simply meant being discovered in a very short time. What _could_ I do? If I attempted to get in the boat and lower myself down from the davits I should be heard. Could I feel for the knife on the floor and stab the rascals one by one as they ascended the ladder into the cabin? Bah! my very heart recoiled at the notion. I could not have killed them even to save my own life. I thought of the sensation of feeling the knife drive through the flesh and jar upon the bones, and the spurt of warm life-blood over my hand, and I shuddered at the idea. No, I was no coward, but as a lad of fifteen I could not take a human life, even for the sake of saving my own. With a pistol it might have been different, a touch of the trigger and all would have been over; but to stab and stab again--no, I could not do it. But stay, a bright idea struck me. Surely the trap-door had a bolt or bolts! Out of the berth I immediately crept, over the silent form of the man who in death had saved my life, and stole on tiptoe to the trap-door. The villains below were jangling over the doling, and their noisy altercation served to hide any little noise I made searching my way across the cabin, which was in utter darkness. Joy! there were two bolts!