turned to Mr. Dykes, who had relieved Smith on the bridge.

"Serve out a tot of rum to all hands," he said. "It's been a trying experience."

"Trying experience!" echoed the mate. "It was as near hell as ever I touched, sir."

The Captain was about to make some remark when he suddenly snatched a pair of binoculars out of the box fastened to the bridge-rail. He focussed them upon the seemingly deserted waste of tossing grey waters and then handed them to the mate.

"What do you make of that, Mr. Dykes?" he asked, indicating a point on the port quarter.

The mate stared through the glasses for some minutes, then handed them back to the Captain.

"It's a boat with a man and a woman in it, or I'm a nigger," he said.

"So I thought," answered the Captain.

CHAPTER V

DORA FLETCHER

A signal was immediately hoisted to let the castaways know that they were observed and the steamer's course was changed to bring her as near as possible to the drifting boat. But there was still such a heavy sea running that a near approach would have involved the risk of the boat being dashed against the Hawk's side before the occupants could be rescued. So the bos'n, standing on the foc'sle head, cast a line which, after three vain attempts, was caught by the young woman in the stern sheets, who made it fast to one of the thwarts. Then one of the steamer's derricks was slung outboard with a rope sling suspended and half a dozen men laid on to the line attached to the boat.

"Catch hold of that sling as you pass under it!" roared Calamity from the bridge.

After some difficult manoeuvring, boat and steamer were brought into such a position that the former passed immediately under the sling.

"Quick now, my girl, or you'll lose it!" shouted the Captain.

But, to the amazement and indignation of everyone, it was the man and not the girl who caught the sling and was hoisted safely out of the boat.

"Oh, the gory swine," growled the second-mate. "Get the derrick inboard, men," he added aloud.

The derrick swung round and the sling was let go with a run that deposited the man on the deck with a terrific bump.

"Outboard again!" cried Calamity. "Stand by, bos'n."

"Get up, you swab!" ejaculated the second-mate, administering the rescued man a heavy kick. "If the skipper wasn't lookin' I'd pitch your ugly carcass back into the ditch."

The fellow staggered to his feet and cast an ugly look at the Cockney. He was a great, hulking brute over six feet tall and broad in proportion, with a sullen, hang-dog countenance that was far from prepossessing.

"What d'you want to kick me for?" he asked truculently.

The second-mate was so astounded at what he regarded as super-colossal impudence and ingratitude, that he just gasped. Then, before he could recover his speech, the boatswain's mate came up, and, gripping the man by the collar of his jersey, ran him into the foc'sle.

Meanwhile two unsuccessful attempts had been made to repeat the first manoeuvre, but at the third the sling passed over the boat and the girl caught hold of it. Next moment she was swung on board and lowered gently to the deck.

"We ain't no stewardesses aboard this packet, Miss," said Mr. Dykes, who had arrived just in time to frustrate the second-mate in assisting the young woman to her feet. "Still, if you'll come to my cabin I'll send you somethin' hot and you can make free with my duds."

"Or you can go to my cabin," put in the second eagerly. "Sorry I 'aven't any 'airpins," he added with an admiring glance at the tawny mane of hair which had become unfastened during her passage from the boat to the ship's deck. "But I've a——"

"The young lady'll find better accommodation in my cabin, Smith," interrupted the mate. "This way, please," he added in the tone and manner of a shop-walker, and departed with his prize.

"Talk about nerve," muttered the disgruntled Smith. "That Yank's got more bloomin' nerve than a peddlin' auctioneer."

Calamity had sent word that, as soon as the survivors had been given food and dry clothes, they were to be brought into his cabin. Half an hour later, the man was ushered in by the mate and stood in front of the Captain with the same hang-dog air that he had exhibited when first rescued.

"Your name and all the rest of it, my man," said the skipper curtly.

"I'm Jasper Skelt, bos'n of the barque Esmeralda, London to Singapore," answered the fellow in a surly voice. "We were hit by that there typhoon and so far's I know she's at the bottom of the sea by now."

"What about the Captain and the rest of the crew?"

"The skipper was knocked overboard by a boom. Then the crew took to the boats and only me and Miss Fletcher, the Cap'n's daughter, was left. We tried to keep the ship head-on to the seas, but she sprang a leak and we had to abandon her."

"You don't know whether any of the other boats survived?"

"No, sir."

"And the ship's papers?"

"Miss Fletcher's got 'em."

"And now I want to know why you caught on to that sling before the woman had a chance?"

"She told me to, and anyhow my life's as good as hers," answered the man defiantly.

"I see. Well, by your own confession you're a coward, and by your looks you're a scoundrel," answered Calamity. "Mr. Dykes," he added, turning to the mate, "take this blackguard to Mr. McPhulach with my compliments and tell him to give the rascal the worst job he's got in the stokehold."

"I'm not going into no blasted stokehold!" cried the man fiercely. "You've no right to make me work, damn you!"

"Very good," answered Calamity in that quiet voice which those who knew him dreaded more than the most curseful outpourings. "You shall be a passenger as long as you wish. Take him back to the foc'sle, Mr. Dykes, and send the carpenter to me."

"Very good, sir," replied the mate, greatly wondering.

By the time the carpenter had received his instructions and departed to carry them out, the mate reported that the girl, whose clothes had been dried in front of the galley fire, was ready to be interviewed.

"Fetch her along then, Mr. Dykes," said the Captain.

A few moments later Miss Fletcher entered the cabin accompanied by the mate. She was, without doubt, the most remarkable young woman that either Calamity or his mate had ever set eyes on. Tall, and almost as powerfully built as a man, her face was nearly the colour of mahogany through constant exposure to the weather. Her eyes, a clear, cold grey, had an almost challenging steadiness and directness of gaze, and she held her head high as one who is accustomed to look the whole world squarely in the face. Her whole manner was a curious blending of authority and aloofness, suggesting a very difficult personality to deal with. But, if lacking much of conventional feminine charm, there was a freshness and vigour about her that was eminently pleasing. One womanly attraction she certainly did possess in abundance, and that was a wonderful mass of chestnut hair which she now wore tightly plaited round her head. For the rest, this extraordinary young woman was attired in a short, blue serge skirt, a man's blue woollen jersey, and a pair of rubber sea-boots.

"Sit down," said the Captain.

The girl obeyed, looking at Calamity with an expression of mingled perplexity and resentment. This may have been due to a little feminine pique at his seeming indifference to her sex—for he had not risen to his feet, nor had his face relaxed from its usual stern grimness. Or it may have been due to the fact that his glass eye was cocked fully upon her with its unswerving, disconcerting stare. The other eye—the practical one—was not looking at her at all, but was meditatively gazing down at the table.

"The man who was with you in the boat tells me that you are the daughter of the Captain of a barque," he said. "His story was not altogether