When Harry was so treacherously thrown overboard by Jack Rodman, the supercargo was not on deck. He had been attacked by a violent headache, which had caused him to go below and “turn in,” in the hope of obtaining a little sleep. In this he at length succeeded, and when Harry’s life was placed in jeopardy he was fast asleep. He did not wake up for an hour or more. Feeling refreshed he got up and went on deck. He looked round as usual for Harry, but did not see him. His attention, however, was drawn to Tom Patch, who, good, honest fellow, every now and then raised his rough hand to his eyes to brush away a tear.

“What’s the matter, Tom?” asked the supercargo, for he had observed the rough sailor’s partiality for Harry, and this had inclined him favorably towards him.

“Is it you, Mr. Weldon?” said Tom, in a subdued tone. “I wish you’d been on deck an hour ago.”

“Why?”

“Mayhaps you could have saved the poor lad.”

“Saved whom?” asked the supercargo, suspecting at once that some harm had befallen Harry, but not dreaming of the extent of his misfortune.

“He fell overboard, or was thrown over, I can’t justly say which.”

“Whom do you mean?”

“Harry Raymond.”

“Good heavens! How long since?”

“An hour and a half, maybe.”

“And was nothing done to save him?”

“I threw a plank when I heard him cry for help.”

“And where was the captain when this happened?” asked Weldon, suspiciously.

“In his cabin. I went down to tell him, and ask to have a boat lowered to save the poor lad; but he swore that if he was careless enough to fall overboard he must save himself.”

The supercargo was not an excitable man, but rather mild and pacific in his disposition; but when he heard of the cold-blooded manner in which Captain Brandon had refused help to the drowning boy, he was filled with a just indignation, which he was unable to conceal.

“Where is Captain Brandon?” he asked, in a quick, stern voice, so unusual to him that Tom looked up in surprise.

“In his cabin, Mr. Weldon. He gave orders that he should not be disturbed.”

“That, for his orders!” returned the supercargo, snapping his fingers contemptuously. “He shall be disturbed, and he shall answer to me for his atrocious inhumanity!” And Mr. Weldon hurried to the rear of the companion-way.

“I didn’t think he had so much spirit,” said Tom, as he followed with his glance the retreating form of the supercargo, “he’s so mild-like, commonly. But I’m glad the poor lad’s got some one that’ll dare to speak up for him. I’d do it, but the captain’d knock me down with a marlin-spike, and put me in irons, likely, if I did.”

The captain’s attention was drawn to a quick, imperative knock at the door of the cabin.

“Go away!” he growled. “I do not wish to be disturbed.”

The only answer was a succession of knocks still louder and more imperative.

“I’ll fix him for his insolence, whoever he is,” the captain muttered, angrily, and, walking to the cabin door, opened it himself.

“What do you mean, Mr. Weldon?” he demanded, in surprise and anger.

The young man’s face was white with anger, and there was a suppressed fury in his tone, as he replied, “I come here, Captain Brandon, to demand why you have sacrificed a human life, by refusing to make any effort to save the boy Harry Raymond.”

“I am not responsible to you for what I do or decline to do, Mr. Weldon,” said Brandon, fiercely. “It is none of your business.”

“It is my business, Captain Brandon, and the business of every man on board who has a spark of humanity in his bosom.”

“You are insolent, sir.”

“Is this a time to choose words? You have suffered that poor boy to perish when you might have saved him, and in the eyes of Heaven you are responsible for his murder.”

“Murder!”

Hartley Brandon was not a brave man. He was disposed to bully and threaten, when he thought he could do it with safety; but when he was opposed in an intrepid and fearless manner, his tone became milder and he lowered his pretensions. So, in the present case, it startled him to be told that, in failing to take means for the rescue of Harry, he had been accessory to a murder, and he began to have undefined apprehensions of the possible consequences of his neglect. He thought it best to exculpate himself.

“Walk in, Mr. Weldon, and sit down,” he said. “We will talk this matter over. You don’t understand all the circumstances.”

“I hope I do not, Captain Brandon,” said the young man, gravely. “I do not wish to think so ill of you as I fear I must.”

“The boy carelessly fell overboard,” commenced the captain.

“Are you sure he fell?” asked the supercargo, significantly.

“Of course he fell. How else could it be? I don’t understand you.”

“It seems strange that he should be so careless.”

“That’s the way of it. He didn’t deserve to be helped. Can I be expected to stop my ship every time a careless boy takes a notion to fall overboard?”

“When a human life is in jeopardy, Captain Brandon, our duty is to save it if we can. I don’t envy the man who at such a time can stop to inquire whether the danger is the result of carelessness or not.”

The supercargo spoke sternly, and the captain felt arraigned for his action, and this irritated him.

“I have to think of my ship,” he said.

“In what way would it have injured the ship, if you had lowered the boat for Harry?”

“I cannot afford to lose time.”

“Have you thought how much time the poor boy has lost, whose life is probably a sacrifice to your criminal negligence? A life which, in all probability, would have been prolonged to seventy, has been cut short at fifteen. Fifty-five years lost to save one hour in the voyage of the Sea Eagle!” said Weldon, scornfully.

“I am not responsible to you, Mr. Weldon,” said Brandon, with irritation, “I acted as I thought for the best. I am the captain of this ship, not you.”

“I am aware of that. Captain Brandon. But you could not expect me to stand by and see a human life sacrificed without uttering my earnest protest. Any life would be worth saving,—the life of this bright, manly boy more than most. His death lies at your door.”

“You have said as much before,” said the captain, sulkily. “If you have no more to say, I will trouble you to leave me to myself.”

“I have something more to say,” said the supercargo, regarding the captain fixedly. “I am aware of the manner in which this boy was entrapped on board your vessel. What motive you had in carrying him away from home and friends I do not know. You perhaps know, also,” the young man continued, “whether in leaving him to his sad fate you are not influenced by a similar motive.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Weldon?” demanded the captain, startled by the words and tone of the other.

“I mean this: that in this whole affair there is something which I do not understand,—something that has excited my suspicions. I shall feel it my duty to report all that I know of it to the authorities at the first opportunity.”

Brandon turned pale. He began to see that he had made a mistake, and exposed himself to grave suspicions. It would have been better, as he now perceived, to make a show of rescuing our hero. It would have been easy to secure failure by unnecessary delay. The threat of a legal investigation alarmed him, and he prepared to make an argument by which he might dispel, if possible, the impression which had been created in the mind of the supercargo. But Mr. Weldon rose, and left the cabin hastily. The interview had been a most unsatisfactory one, and had only convinced him of what he feared,—that the captain was, in reality, either glad to be rid of our hero, even by such means, or else indifferent to his fate. He was inclined to believe in the former theory. What he had said of laying the matter before the authorities, he was fully decided upon. Now the vehemence of his indignation gave place to a feeling of the deepest and most poignant sorrow for the loss of the boy who had unconsciously become very dear to him. He thought of his frank, manly bearing, of his pleasant face, of his courtesy and politeness, and the warm and generous heart of which he had shown himself to be possessed, and then of the terrible fate which had so unexpectedly overtaken him, and the tears rose unbidden to his eyes. By this time, doubtless, Harry was beyond human succor, and all that he could do was to drop a tear to his memory. He went up to Tom Patch, towards whom the sailor’s evident grief for our hero’s fate had warmed his heart, and wrung his hand heartily.

“He was a noble boy, and his life has been shamefully sacrificed, Tom,” he said; “but if I live, the man who has done this deed shall be punished.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” said Tom, whose voice was gruff with emotion; “I hope you’ll stick to that. He was a brave lad, and the captain deserves to be pitched after him.”

Mr. Weldon paced the deck till far into the night. Captain Brandon shut himself up in his cabin, and did not show himself till morning. He had made various advances towards the supercargo, whom he evidently desired to conciliate, from prudential intentions; but the young man met him with a freezing formality, which showed him that all hopes in that direction were futile.

So the Sea Eagle sped on its way, till at length it arrived at its destined port.