satisfactory, so I should like to hear your version—as briefly as possible," he added with a snap.

A slight flush of annoyance tinged the girl's face. Evidently she was not used to being treated in this curt, unceremonious manner, and resented it. Mr. Dykes, who was very impressionable where the opposite sex was concerned, mentally compared the Captain's attitude with what his own would have been under similar circumstances.

"My name is Dora Fletcher, and my father, who was killed during the recent storm by being knocked overboard, was John Fletcher, master and owner of the barque Esmeralda of Newcastle," said the girl in a voice as curt as Calamity's own. "We were bound from London to Singapore with general cargo. During the height of the storm, the vessel sprang a leak and the crew took to the boats, but I doubt if any of them survived."

"So you and the bos'n, Jasper Skelt, were left on board?" said the Captain as the girl paused.

"Yes; Skelt would have gone with the men, only they threatened to throw him overboard if he did. He's a damned rascal."

Mr. Dykes started and even looked shocked. It was not so much the expletive itself which had disturbed his sense of propriety, but the cool, forceful manner in which it was uttered; obviously it was not the first time that Miss Fletcher had availed herself of this, as well as of other masculine prerogatives.

"You have the ship's papers?" asked Calamity.

For answer the young woman drew from beneath her jersey a packet of papers which she handed to the Captain. He glanced through them and then handed them back to her.

"I should prefer to leave them in your charge till I am put ashore," said the girl. "What port do you touch first?"

"I can't say. This is not an ordinary merchant ship, but a licensed privateer."

"A privateer! Then you expect to fight?"

"You will arrange what accommodation you can for Miss Fletcher, Mr. Dykes," said the Captain, ignoring her question.

"Yes, sir; I suppose she will have her food in the cabin, sir?"

"Not in this one, Mr. Dykes."

Again the hot, angry blood rushed to the girl's face and she turned a pair of blazing eyes on the Captain.

"Thank you for that privilege, at any rate!" she said with furious sarcasm.

"Not at all," murmured Calamity imperturbably, and made a gesture to signify that he wished to be alone.

As the mate escorted Miss Fletcher from the cabin, he was very nearly as hot and indignant as herself at the Captain's behaviour. Here was a handsome, strapping girl who had unexpectedly come into their midst and Calamity treated her as if she were a derelict deck-hand. He had not even expressed a word of sympathy for the death of her father.

"I'm real sorry you should have been treated like this," he said awkwardly. "The skipper ain't no dude, but I did think——"

"I assure you it makes no difference to me," interrupted the girl. "I am only too glad to think that I shan't have to see more of him than is necessary."

"An' you ain't the only one who thinks that way, Miss," answered the mate thoughtfully. "I wouldn't envy the man who took the inside track with him; it'd be as pleasant as takin' your grub in a den with a hungry lion."

Passing out of the alleyway, their ears were suddenly assailed by the sound of oaths, curses, and blasphemies, intermingled with threats, groans, and appeals for mercy. They emanated from Jasper Skelt, whose demands to be treated as a passenger were now receiving attention according to the Captain's instructions. Resting on two trestles placed one on each side of the after-hatch was a thick wooden beam, inclined so that one of its sharp edges was uppermost. Astride this unpleasant perch, his feet about six inches from the deck, was the ex-bos'n of the Esmeralda. His ankles were tied together beneath the beam, his wrists securely fastened behind his back, and to a cord round his neck was suspended a spit-kid—this last for the benefit of any man who felt a desire to expectorate. To judge from Skelt's condition, there were many indifferent marksmen aboard the Hawk.

"That guy was fool enough to sass the old man and now he's learnin' better," explained Mr. Dykes to his companion. "He ain't a pretty sight, is he?"

Seeing Miss Fletcher, the misguided Jasper had suddenly checked his output of assorted profanity and now wildly appealed to her for help.