He had picked up that name-probably from poor Harty's muttering in his sleep-and he would use it on every occasion to irritate him..

Often, when he had stung young Winwood into retaliation, he would leap lightly from the deck, handover-hand, up the yards, to the topmast, among the shrouds; there he would hang fearless, mocking at them below. Suddenly he would feign to drop, or hang by one hand or foot, and play such monkey tricks that even the most inveterate against him would forget their grievance, in admiring his boldness and skill.

"He's the most fearless young varmint that ever was hatched," said old Bill Geelong.

"He's no call to be afraid on the sea," said another. "Them that are born to be hanged will never be drowned, they say.'

دو

Hitherto they had had fine weather on the voyage, and, amid all his griefs, Harold Winwood had found cause to admire the beauties of the ocean, and its many rare and wonderful changes, by dawn of day, sunset, or solemn night.

But now there came a change. Day after day of heavy rains, and adverse winds followed. The vessel was driven considerably from her track. Some of the men were laid up. Double duty devolved upon those who were able to work.

In consequence there was much discomfort. Provisions were found to be spoiled in the hold: this put the hands on small rations of some kinds of victuals.

Among those who had now to make themselves extra useful was Harty. Hitherto his duties had been menial and unpleasant enough, but not in any way trying to his strength or capacity. But now it became, not a question

of what he could do, but what he must. More of the sailors fell ill. Sam took the place of one of these, and all his duties fell to Harty.

Then-hard worked; with often only half enough sleep; food of the coarsest, which at times he found it impossible to eat; with cut and bleeding hands, and sores on various portions of his body, from the contact of rough clothes and salt water-then Harold Winwood realized to the full how great a punishment may ensue on the smallest error; how one easy step from the straight, true path may lead to a terrible maze of difficulty and suffering. And even now the worst had not been reached.

The berth which Harty occupied was shared with the mate Hawkins. There stood in one corner a small locker, with a top that, being let down, served as a sort of table or desk.

Harty had often, while dozing on his bed, seen the mate unlock this flap and sit writing or reading; and more than once had heard the chink of money as Hawkins counted it, or put away, or took out from his store.

One night, it being the mate's turn on deck, Harty was startled by hearing the well-known sound of the locker, which creaked when opened.

He started up. In the dim light he saw a smaller figure than the mate's busy at the open locker.

For the moment he was too much amazed to speak. The next he had whispered more than spoken the word "Sam!"

The cabin-boy, for it was he, turned sharp round, and, pale as death, made-believe to laugh off the matter as a joke.

"Old Hawkins left his key in his locker, and I just took a peep in. He's a miser, you know."

"I know you'd better not meddle with lockers that arn't your own," said Harty.

"Where's the harm of looking in, when it's open?" retorted Sam. "I don't want to meddle with his old hoards. What's the good of money here?"

"I suppose money will be of use when we go ashore, won't it?" said Harty coldly.

"Ah! when we do, Master Wisehead. When will that be? Perhaps you can tell; you know so many things. I suppose you'll be for telling Old Hawky I came after his coins now!"

"I am no tell-tale, as you know," rejoined Harty proudly.

Sam soon after left the berth.

Harty noticed that no key was left in the lock.

The cabin-boy must have opened it.

This made him feel very uneasy. He could not bring such a charge against a shipmate. Yet if Sam were dishonest, and money were missing, Harty might himself be suspected.

Sam never forgave the boy who had found him out. Thenceforward he went in mortal dread of being betrayed by him.

He was for ever planning some deep scheme for getting rid of one who, he felt, had him in his power. And ere long circumstances gave him the opportunity he was not slow to avail himself of for the ruin of the unfortunate Harty.

CHAPTER XVII.

IN SAVAGE HANDS.

Ir was a joyful sight for the whole ship's company when the gloomy skies cleared, the rain ceased. The contrary winds lulled, and sank gradually, giving place to a soft, balmy air, breathing sweet odours from the groups of islands they were now nearing, and bearing health and hopefulness to the sick and weary.

The reviving rays of the sun brought the poor invalids out on deck, the soaked garments and bed-coverings were spread to dry. The ship sped tranquilly on her course, while the white sails seemed to laugh with gladness, as they puffed out gaily, under the influence of the favouring breath of heaven.

Soon they came in view of the group of green islands, which seemed to rise like fairy land from the bosom of the sea. Some of these were wholly uninhabited, yet were known to contain precious stores of fruits and roots most valuable to ships' crews, to whom fresh vegetables were unattainable; also fresh water, of which they wanted a supply. But, again, others of the islands were known to be the resort of tribes of savages. Not all hostile, certainly, if not

intruded upon; yet at times visited by those of a fierce and murderous disposition. It was, therefore, with great caution that seamen accustomed themselves to visit the islands; glad as they always were to avail themselves of the opportunity of setting their feet upon the green earth, and obtaining those needful supplies I have alluded to. The very anticipation seemed to make sound men of such as had been ailing for weeks past.

Two boats were lowered, and speedily manned. The invalids were divided. Sam and Harty were in one boat, with Larcom and Bill Geelong. Hawkins was in the other. Baskets and water-jars in plenty were provided, with strong injunctions, from the elder men to the rest, not to stray about, but to keep well together.

"I have landed here a score of times," said Hawkins, "and have never yet been molested, or seen aught worse than myself; still ye never know."

Bill Geelong shook his head.

"It's the pitcher to the well," he said sagely. “You may carry it safely ninety-nine times, and the hundredth it's smashed! You boys, keep the boat well in sight, and, whatever you do, don't go in among the trees up-shore."

Once on the soft green that lined the banks, almost to the water's edge, one would have said the frenzy of madness had seized on the poor pale-faced sick men, who had languished so long in their close, pent-up bunks.

They cast themselves on the ground, they buried their faces in the fresh green, they tore it up, and ate it in handfuls. It was not grass, but a species of small cress or clover, soft and delicate, though tasteless; but it seemed to put fresh life into the wretched men, as they