Before Smith had time to recover from his astonishment at Miss Fletcher's remark, the business of placing his broken leg in splints was begun. The operation—no easy one with the ship rolling and lurching incessantly—proved so painful that he swooned before he was able to make any audible comment.

"There," remarked the girl when the difficult task had been accomplished, "it may not be a perfect job, but I think it'll answer till we reach port."

"Heap good doctor pigeon," murmured Sing-hi complacently.

Having made the patient as comfortable as circumstances would permit, the girl left the cabin and stepped into the alleyway. Here she paused for a moment, steadying herself against the bulkhead and gazing at the waves breaking over the bulwarks and flooding the decks knee-deep with a swirling mass of turbid, green water. Then, with an abrupt movement as though she had arrived at some momentous decision, she went to her own cabin and hastily donned sea-boots, oilskins, and sou'-wester. This done, she passed out into the alleyway again, just as the bos'n, with a life-belt strapped over his oilskins, appeared at the entrance, staggering and slithering.

"S'truth!" he ejaculated, "it's 'ell down there."

"Down where?" asked the girl.

The bos'n jerked his head in the direction of the after-hatch.

"In the 'old," he answered. "Jest been down there, and, Gawd, it fair made me sick. Never see'd anything like it since I was aboard a River Plate cattle boat."

"What's the matter there, then?"

"Matter! Why, it's what I said it was just now—'ell. The 'atches are battened down, it's as 'ot as a furnace, and the stink of the bilge water's enough to knock you down. There ain't no light except for a lantern, which don't give no more than a glim, and the air's that thick you could cut it into slabs and 'eave it overboard."

He was about to turn away when the girl's attire arrested his attention.

"You ain't going on deck?" he said.

"I am."

"Well, don't you go; you didn't ought to this weather."

"That's my affair, bos'n."

"It'll be the skipper's, too, when 'e catches sight of you," answered the man grimly. "Still, it ain't no business of mine, and if you wants to try and get drownded, I s'pose you must," with which philosophical reflection the bos'n proceeded on his way.

The storm had reached such a pitch of fury that the girl was half inclined to follow the bos'n's advice, but pride forbade, and, clinging to the handrail, she made her way towards the deck. Experienced sailor as she was, it proved no easy task, for the Hawk was rolling to such an extent that at times she seemed to lie on her beam-ends, and the girl had to cling with both hands to the rails to prevent herself from being flung violently against the bulkheads at each terrific lurch. However, she succeeded at last in reaching the deck, where the seas came thundering down with the force of battering-rams.

She paused here because the nearest hand-line had been torn away, and to have ventured further without anything to cling to would have been courting certain death. Yet it was very nearly as dangerous to remain where she was, since at any moment an extra large sea might swoop down, and, tearing her from the insecure handrail, sweep her overboard. And, once engulfed in that inferno of raging waters, rescue would be utterly impossible, even if anyone happened to witness the catastrophe. Therefore, watching her opportunity, she made a dash, reached the iron ladder leading up to the bridge, and clung to it while another huge wave flung itself upon the reeling ship. When it had passed she started to mount, clinging to the rails for dear life. As her head came level with the bridge she saw Calamity gripping an iron stanchion to steady himself, and apparently trying to peer ahead through the swirling spindrift. His back was towards the girl, and he did not even see her as she set foot on the sacred bridge and glanced doubtfully around.

She was still hesitating—none but a sailor realises the extraordinary sanctity of the bridge—when one of the quartermasters uttered a warning cry. Almost before the words had left his lips a terrific sea struck the Hawk on the port beam, and, leaping high into the air, discharged itself with a deafening roar upon the bridge. The iron stanchion to which the Captain had been clinging was wrenched from its socket, Calamity was swept off his feet, and, but for the fact that, in falling, he became wedged between the rails and the engine-room telegraph, would certainly have been carried overboard by the receding water. As it was, one of the two quartermasters was swept away and lost for ever in the raging sea, while the other lay stunned against the binnacle.

Trained as she had been in seamanship, Dora Fletcher saw in a flash the peril which threatened the ship. With no one to control the steering-gear, the Hawk would fall away into the trough of that tremendous sea and then no mortal power could save her. Even as this thought struck her, the girl sprang to the wheel and brought the vessel round again bows-on to the rollers just as she was about to swing broadside-on.

Calamity, staggering to his feet, saw the girl there at the wheel and the inert form of the quartermaster at her feet. Imbued with the traditions and customs of the sea as she was, Dora Fletcher experienced a momentary misgiving at thought of the sacrilege she had committed and wondered whether the Captain, in his just wrath, would order her to be locked in her cabin for the rest of the voyage. The fact that, by her presence of mind, she had saved the ship and all on board from inevitable destruction did not occur to her at the moment. Involuntarily she clenched her teeth in expectation of the storm of anger she felt sure was about to descend upon her. Then, above the howling of the gale, she caught the Captain's voice, harsh and commanding.

"Port a little! That'll do; steady now, steady!"

And that was all. Her presence there at the wheel seemed to have caused him no more surprise than if she had been one of the deck-hands. It was, in a way, humiliating, because it robbed her of all sense of triumph; all the wilful delight of having committed a daring and unauthorised act.

In answer to a signal from the bridge, a couple of seamen came up from the forecastle and removed the unconscious quartermaster, leaving the Captain and the girl by themselves upon the bridge. Calamity took no further notice of her, but, hanging on to the rail, continued to gaze into the teeth of the gale. Presently, without turning round, he shouted a hoarse command which the girl obeyed, repeating the order as she turned the wheel. Her apprehension had left her now, and she was even conscious of a feeling of pride that the Captain, seemingly, was content to trust the steering to her, and, though he had hitherto kept two quartermasters at the wheel, seemed to take it for granted that she was quite competent to manage alone.

When six bells struck—eleven o'clock in the forenoon watch—Dora Fletcher had been at the wheel over three hours. The storm, far from abating, had increased in fury, and some there were among the crew who began to doubt whether the steamer would live through it.

At eight bells the relief watch came up to take over the wheel. The girl relinquished it thankfully, for she was both hungry and exhausted. Reaching her cabin, she ate ravenously of the food which the steward had left for her, and then turned in, falling asleep almost before she had removed her sea-boots. She did not awaken till eight bells in the afternoon watch, and then, as the crew were keeping "watch and watch," she turned out of her bunk and donned oilskins and sea-boots once more. Whether or no Calamity expected her, she was determined to take it for granted that she should do her "trick" as though she were a regular member of the crew.

Feeling just a little bit apprehensive, she climbed to the bridge, took over the wheel, and was given steering directions by the off-going quartermasters, one of whom paused as he was going and bellowed in the girl's ear:

"Better keep a bright look-out, Miss. The skipper's got one of 'is malaria attacks comin' on. I've sailed with 'im before, and I know."

This was startling, for the girl, somehow, had never conceived it possible that Calamity could suffer from any of the ordinary ills which flesh is heir to. She watched him more intently after the sailor's warning, and noticed that he moved stiffly as if in pain, and that, whenever he stood still, he seemed to be trembling in every limb.

On the whole, it was not a very cheerful prospect. The Captain sick and likely to become worse, the only officer incapacitated, and the crew, in all probability, ready to break into open mutiny if they felt assured that the one man they feared was unable to raise a hand against them. And there were the prisoners to be reckoned with as well, should there be trouble on board. As for Mr. Dykes, it was useless to count on any assistance from him, for the gunboat had been lost sight of twelve hours ago.

Another two hours passed by, and it was plain that Calamity was growing worse. Though he did not utter a word of complaint, the girl realised that he was fighting with all his might against the fever which was slowly but surely sapping his strength. Once or twice he would have fallen had he not clutched the bridge-rail in time to save himself, and it became evident that even his iron will could not stave off the threatened collapse much longer. Suddenly, as though some sustaining force had snapped, he reeled back against the starboard rail and collapsed against the pedestal of the engine-room telegraph. The girl, who dared not leave the wheel for a second, called to a couple of seamen who were on deck, and, when they had arrived on the bridge, told them to carry the Captain to his cabin and put him to bed.

"When you have done that," she said, "come back here."

They lifted up the senseless form of the Captain, and, with considerable difficulty, carried him aft. When they had done this and returned to the bridge, Miss Fletcher placed them in charge of the wheel with directions concerning the course they were to steer. It was, of course, a somewhat risky proceeding to leave the bridge without any officer there to give orders in case of a sudden emergency; but, under the circumstances, there was nothing else for it.

She went aft and found Calamity in a semi-conscious condition. Having satisfied herself that he had been made comfortable, she unlocked the medicine chest and mixed him a stiff dose of quinine. She had just administered this and was about to give Sing-hi instructions concerning the patient, when there came a knock at the cabin-door.

"Come in," said the girl.

The door opened to admit the bos'n and a couple of able seamen.

"Well?" she inquired curtly, somewhat surprised at this visit.

"We wanted to know if it's true that the skipper's on the sick-list, beggin' your pardon, Miss," said the bos'n.

"He is down with an attack of malaria. Why?"

The men exchanged significant glances.

"Well, Miss," went on the bos'n, fingering his dripping sou'-wester nervously, "we thought we'd like to know who's in command while the skipper's laid up."

"I am," answered the girl without a moment's hesitation.