ever diminishing outlines of the great battleship. The old

fellow was polishing brasses, and as he came edging along until

close to Clayton he said, in an undertone:

"'Ell's to pay, sir, on this 'ere craft, an' mark my word for

it, sir. 'Ell's to pay."

"What do you mean, my good fellow?" asked Clayton.

"Wy, hasn't ye seen wats goin' on? Hasn't ye 'eard that

devil's spawn of a capting an' is mates knockin' the bloomin'

lights outen 'arf the crew?

"Two busted 'eads yeste'day, an' three to-day. Black

Michael's as good as new agin an' 'e's not the bully to

stand fer it, not 'e; an' mark my word for it, sir."

"You mean, my man, that the crew contemplates mutiny?"

asked Clayton.

"Mutiny!" exclaimed the old fellow. "Mutiny! They means

murder, sir, an' mark my word for it, sir."

"When?"

"Hit's comin', sir; hit's comin' but I'm not a-sayin' wen, an'

I've said too damned much now, but ye was a good sort

t'other day an' I thought it no more'n right to warn ye. But

keep a still tongue in yer 'ead an' when ye 'ear shootin' git

below an' stay there.

"That's all, only keep a still tongue in yer 'ead, or they'll

put a pill between yer ribs, an' mark my word for it, sir," and

the old fellow went on with his polishing, which carried him

away from where the Claytons were standing.

"Deuced cheerful outlook, Alice," said Clayton.

"You should warn the captain at once, John. Possibly the

trouble may yet be averted," she said.

"I suppose I should, but yet from purely selfish motives I

am almost prompted to `keep a still tongue in my 'ead.'

Whatever they do now they will spare us in recognition of