"Why, Tom," cried Murray angrily, "that is disobeying your officer's orders."

"Disobeying, sir?" said the man sharply. "Nay, sir; not me. Only you see, sir, you was a-telling me about the way in which them snakes p.r.i.c.ked a man with their tails."

"Tails! Nonsense, man! Teeth."

"I didn't 'member for sartin, sir, which end it was; but you said they did it so sharp, sir, that it killed a man out-and-out before the doctor could 'stract the sting."

"Yes, I did tell you something of the kind, Tom."

"Nay, sir, not something of the kind," cried the sailor reproachfully; "that's what it was azackly. And then you see, sir, I don't want to brag, but you telled me yourself another time that I was a werry useful man."

"That must have been a mistake, Tom, for you are not proving it now,"

said Murray, speaking sternly but feeling amused by the man's evasions all the while. "Why, Tom, I thought you were not afraid of anything that was solid."

"No, sir, but you can't call them squirmy tie-theirselves-up-in-a-knot things solid; now, can you?"

"Tom May, you're a sham, sir," said Murray sternly. "There, I am deceived in you. I'll go myself;" and he made for the screen quickly.

But the man was quicker, and sprang before him.

"Nay, you don't, sir! I am mortal skeared of snakes and sarpints, but I arn't going to let my officer think me a coward and call me a sham.

Case I do get it badly, sir, would you mind 'membering to tell Dr Reston, sir, as they say whiskey's the best cure for bites? And as there's no whiskey as I knows on aboard, p'raps he wouldn't mind trying rum."

"I'm sure the doctor wouldn't like me meddling with his prescribing, Tom," said Murray shortly. "Now then, up with you!"

"Ay, ay, sir!" cried the man, in tones which sounded like gasps; and Murray stood by, dirk in hand, ready to make a chop at any reptile which might appear, while Tom drew himself up into the shadowy loft, and after a good look round lowered himself down again with a sigh of relief.

"No Mr Allen's up there, sir," he said.

"Then where can he be?" cried the middy excitedly, and he ran back across the hall and into the study, to pa.s.s his hand over the couch, which still felt slightly warm.

"P'raps he's gone into the gunroom, sir," said Tom respectfully.

"What, the hall where the guns and things are?"

"Nay, nay, sir; I meant the eating quarters--the dinin'-room, as you call it."

Murray ran back across the hall to see at a glance that no one was beyond, and he turned upon his follower again.

"Tom," he exclaimed angrily, "what do you make of this?"

The man shook his head.

"But he can't have come out of the study while we were looking out at the back."

"That's so, sir," said the man, shaking his head the while. "It's quite onpossible, sir, but he did."

"Tut, tut, tut!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Murray quickly. "We must visit all the posts and see if any one saw him pa.s.s."

"They couldn't, sir, 'cause if they had they'd have challenged and stopped him."

"Of course they would," cried the lad excitedly. "Here, let's have another look round the study. He must be there."

"That's just what I'm a-thinking, sir," cried the man solemnly.

"Then where is he? Don't stand staring at me like a figure-head!

Haven't you anything to say?"

"No, sir; only you 'member how all-overish I come, sir."

"Yes, when you declared it was as if there was a dead man in the place."

"Yes, sir; I knowed there was something wrong."

"Well, then, stupid," cried the lad, in a pa.s.sion, "there's no live man here."

"No, sir," said Tom, shaking his head.

"Well, then," cried Murray, pa.s.sionately, striking his open palm with the blue and gold inlaid blade of his dirk, "where's your dead man?"

"Can't say, sir," replied the man, speaking very slowly. "Seems to me it's a mystery."

"A mystery?" cried the middy, looking round at the pictures and other decorations of the place and addressing them as if they were sentient, listening creatures. "Here's a big six-foot strongly-built British sailor talking to his officer like an old charwoman about mysteries!

You, Tom May, if ever you dare to talk such nonsense to me again, I'll punch your silly head."

"Beg pardon, your honour," said the man coolly, "but don't the articles o' war say something 'bout officers not being allowed to strike their men?"

"Bother the articles of war!" roared Murray, leaping at the man, seizing him by the shoulders, and shaking him to and fro with all his might.

"Bother the articles of war!" he repeated, breathless from his exertions. "They don't say anything about knocking an idiot's head off!"

"No, sir," said the man humbly and respectfully; "not as I knows on."

"Then I feel disposed to do it," cried the middy pa.s.sionately. Then stooping to pick up the dirk, which had slipped from his hand, to fall with a loud jingle upon the polished floor, "No, I don't," cried the lad, in a vexed, appealing way. "I couldn't help it, Tom! Look here, old lad; you've always been a good stout fellow, ready to stand by me in trouble."

"Ay, ay, sir, I have," said the man quietly, "and will again."

"Then help me now, Tom. Can't you see what a mess I'm in? Here has the captain entrusted me with the care of this prisoner--for prisoner he is, and you can't make anything else of him."

"Ay, ay, sir; prisoner he is, and you can't make nowt else of him."

"That's right, Tom," cried the lad, growing quite despairing in his tones. "Sooner or later Mr Anderson or Mr Munday will be coming to relieve me of my charge, and the first question whoever it is will ask me will be, Where's your prisoner?"

"Ay, ay, sir! That's right enough."

"There, there! Look at it in a straightforward business-like way,"

cried the lad, and to his disgust the man slowly turned his eyes all about the place.

"Bah!" cried Murray angrily. "What are you thinking of? Can't you understand that I want you to help me?"