"S'elp me, your honour, it's no fault of any man aboard saving the party you gave the command of this ship to," answered Mr Eagle in a profoundly respectful, obsequious, yet sour and protesting manner and voice as though he had been wounded in a very delicate part of his honour. "I'm here to witness to that, sir, and so's the men," said Mr Pledge. "Reserve what you have to say for my private ear!" exclaimed Captain Acton, with a severe look and in a stern voice. "Where is your Captain?" "He left the deck when the frigate fired a gun," replied Mr Eagle, "and I haven't seen him since." "I believe he's done for himself," said Mr Pledge, addressing nobody in particular; "I fancied I heer'd a shot fired in the cabin." "You didn't run down to see?" cried Captain Acton. "Come, Sir William! Will you kindly follow, Mr Fellowes?" And attended by the two he had named, he hastened to the companion-hatch and all three ran below. The cabin--the "great cabbin," as it would have been called by our ancestors--was empty of everything but its furniture. Captain Acton knew his ship. He walked straight to the door of the Captain's berth or cabin--that compartment in which Mr Walter Lawrence had locked up Miss Lucy Acton--and threw it open. The sight that met their eyes caused an instant arrest in the movements of the three gentlemen from one of whom, the Admiral, an exclamation in the note of a groan escaped. On his face stretched along the cabin floor, his arms extended, his right hand grasping the butt-end of a pistol, was the body of Mr Lawrence. That the pistol had quite recently been exploded might be known by the smell of the gunpowder that lurked in the atmosphere. By the side of this motionless figure lying prone, knelt the distorted shape of Paul, the steward, who, on the door being flung open, and on catching sight of Captain Acton and the Admiral, sprang to his feet and recoiled into a corner of the cabin, with his face blanched by terror which had immediately visited him on top of the wild, uncalculating passion of grief which commonly besieges vulgar persons of this man's mental calibre who are likewise freaks of nature. After a moment or two of hesitation due to the consternation excited by the unexpected spectacle upon the cabin deck, Captain Acton and Mr Fellowes ran to the prostrate man, and Acton cried: "He has shot himself!" "Help me to turn him over, sir," said Mr Fellowes. "I don't think he is dead."