"Ah! Here you are," said Ben, who had moved up as close to the galley as he could get. "You have come to hear how I got aboard this craft, haven't you?"

"Where did you get your pipe?" asked Bob, seeing that Ben was puffing industriously at a well-blackened briar-root which Bob had never seen him use before.

"I got it of one of the sailors," said Ben. "Say, Joe Lufkin didn't bring you aboard here in broad daylight?"

"No, he did not," replied Bob, indignantly. "He waited until after dark, and then knocked me down."

"Well, he brought me off here before noon," said Ben, who got so angry when he spoke of the circumstance that it was all he could do to make himself understood. "He knocked me down in daylight and brought me here."

"Why, how did that come? I didn't suppose there was a man in the world that could do that to you."

"He did it, and he did it as slick as grease, too," said Ben, pulling off his hat and digging his fingers into his hair. "Oh, don't I wish I could see that man now!"

With this introduction Ben went on and told the story of his capture. There wasn't much to tell, of course, for he did not remember a thing after he permitted Joe to come close to him. The next thing he knew he was in the bunk in the forecastle, with an aching head and a stomach that was parched for water.

"I've got over that now, and I am all right again," said Ben. "I only wish I was sitting on my own porch."

"That man must have a power of muscle," said Bob, who was astonished at the ease with which Ben had been captured. "But I don't know but he made a prisoner of me just as easy. I was standing just inside of the gate looking for you, and he said there was something he wanted to speak with me about, and when I turned to lead him to the porch, that was all I knew. I wonder what Hank will say when he knows what his father has been guilty of?"

"We don't care for Hank," said Ben, hotly. "His father has been guilty of murder in the first degree, and we'll jug him for that. But first I must have the opportunity of pounding him. I'll prove to him that Ben Watson ain't the easy man to get away with that he supposed."

"I don't know that we can arrest him for murder in the first degree," began Bob, smiling when he thought of such a thing.

"I'd like to know if he wasn't guilty of murder when he sent us off here?" said Ben. "How did he know but that the mates would knock us overboard if they got half a chance? How did he know but that they would haze us until we would be glad to go to Davy Jones's locker? I tell you one thing, Bob, the mates ain't half so bad as folks allow. I believe we will be treated all right as long as we do our duty. The mates are down on anything that looks like sojering, but they will do fair if we only jump when we hear the word. They have a crew of sailor-men here, and they know it."

"Why, then, you ain't going to desert?" said Bob.

"Yes, I am, if you will go; but if you won't, I won't. Let me tell you: This vessel has a miscellaneous cargo aboard, and is bound on a trading voyage among the islands of the South Pacific. When we strike one of those islands we'll skip."

"That's me. I wish we were there to-night."

"Don't the darky treat you all right?"

"Yes; but I am not used to being ordered around by such a fellow as that second mate. But still I have got to take what is in store for me."

"That's sensible. Do whatever you are ordered, and don't make any fuss about it. I will put myself out to give you an insight into your duties, and, as we belong to the same watch, I will promise to be on hand whenever I can to assist in any work you may have to do. I'll keep you out of the hands of the mate."

"By the way, Ben, have you any clothes for your bunk?"

"I have," replied the old sailor. "I got them of some of the men, and I guess I shall have to go to them to get a change of duds, for there is no slop-chest aboard."

"I got some of the cook. I wonder what my father would say if he knew where I am? I promised that I would never go to sea, and here I am, a sailor in spite of myself."

"Your father didn't know that you had some enemies at home who would help you go to sea," said Ben. "If he had, he might have told you to look out for them."

If time and space would permit we might tell of many interesting and some thrilling events which happened during the next few months, all of which Bob witnessed, and in several of which he was the principal actor; but when one reads a story of the sea it is like telling it over again. The sailors were treated on this voyage no worse than they were on any other voyage they ever made—not even during the hurricane off the Mauritius, when a belaying-pin from the mate's hand and a sailor disappeared at the same time and were never heard of afterward. It was an accident, and the second mate so reported it; but such "accidents" did not happen every day, and Bob, who saw the whole proceeding, was anxious to get out of the power of such a man. But such incidents as these must be hurried over, because they have no bearing on our story. It will be enough to say that the J. W. Smart passed the Cape, went safely through the hurricane of which we have spoken, and a few days later made her first stop at a small, uninhabited island, to refill the water-casks, which the captain had emptied to lighten the ship during the gale.

It was night when they got there, and Bob and old Ben, who stood the first anchor watch, seriously discussed something they had often talked of during the voyage—desertion. They did not decide upon anything definite that night, but Ben promised to think it over and be ready on the following morning with a plan that would surely succeed. This assurance enabled Bob to carry to bed with him a lighter heart than he had known for many a day.

"Doctor, I'm going off now," said he, as he met his friend and ally in the galley. The negro had often talked to him of desertion, and sometimes, when Bob thought it too hard to undertake, he had always gone to work to cheer him up.

"'Fore de land!" he exclaimed, rolling the whites of his eyes up in delight. "But I ain't seed you get in de boat yet."

"No, but I am going to get in one when it is called away."

"Yes; but do you know what de mate will say to you when he sees you in that boat? He say: 'Here, you boy, you can't pull an oar alongside of them big fellers. You get out and let a white man get in dar.' Yes, sir, dat's what he will say to you. My only trouble is that he will want you to help me, an' won't let you go off."

Early the next morning, after a hasty breakfast had been disposed of, the order was given to hoist out the water-casks, and while it was being obeyed Ben found opportunity to whisper some instructions to Bob.

"As soon as the casks are in the water a boat will be called away to tow them up the creek," said Ben, "and you and I must be two of the crew. While the casks are being filled we'll watch our chance and slip away, one at a time, and hide in the bushes until the ship sails."

"And what will we do then?" asked Bob. "Stay here on the island and starve to death? I see no signs of inhabitants."

"Neither do I; but I would rather starve ashore than be sent overboard by a belaying-pin, as that fellow was served off the Mauritius. No one has said a word to me, but I know we are not the only ones who think of deserting. Be sure you make one of that boat's crew."

The first mate, who was superintending the operation of getting the casks into the water, very soon became aware that he had a boy there whom he had not seen very often during the voyage. He was an easy-going fellow, very different from the second mate, who went about trying to find fault with the men, and pretty soon he called out to Bob:

"Here, boy, don't you belong in the galley?"

"Yes, sir," promptly replied Bob, releasing his hold upon the rope and stepping up in front of the mate.

"If you please, sar, I can get along widout him," said the cook, stepping up and pulling his topknot. "De boy hasn't been to sea so long before, an' he's anxious to get ashore an' stretch his legs."

The mate said no more, and Bob returned to his work of hoisting out the casks.

"Bully for the first mate," he said to himself. "If the second mate had spoken to me he would have sent me into the galley, sure. Now, if I can get into the boat I'm all right."

At the end of two hours the last cask had been hoisted from the hold, and while it was being lowered into the water Bob and Ben, anticipating the next order, began to overhaul the cutter's falls; and when the mate told the crew to lay aft and lower away, they sprang in, one at the bow and the other at the stern, to unhook the falls when she touched the water. As Ben had expected, almost every hand volunteered when a crew was called for to man the cutter—so many that the mate was obliged to order some of them back, and Ben felt not a little alarmed lest one of the brawny fellows should be ordered to take Bob's place, and the latter be compelled to remain on board. But nothing of the kind happened. The captain kept a sharp eye on him as the boat was being rowed around the vessel to the long line of water-casks, but seeing that he knew how to handle an oar he allowed him to keep his place.

Bob had always plumed himself on being a good and enduring oarsman, but on this occasion his powers were tested to the utmost. The sun was broiling hot even at that early hour; the tow was a heavy one, and the officer in charge of the boat was constantly urging the crew to greater exertions, now and then casting his eyes over his shoulder toward a bank of clouds that was slowly rising above the horizon. Bob was seaman enough to know that those clouds might prove friends to him and Ben. There was wind in them, and when it came the ship would be obliged to put to sea or run the risk of being dashed on a lee shore.

After following the windings of the creek for a mile or more, the mate drew up alongside the bank and the work of filling the casks began. It was brackish water, as Bob found when he came to taste of it, but it would do them until they reached a place where they could get better. The officer had doubtless been instructed by his superior to keep a sharp eye on the men while they were thus engaged; at any rate, he did so, stationing himself on the bank above them, where he could see all their movements. Bob's heart sank within him as the work progressed without any signs of decreasing watchfulness on the part of the officer, and he had almost made up his mind that he had to go back on board the ship and abandon all idea of going home, when, as he happened to cast his eye toward the upper end of the line, where Ben had been at work, he was surprised to find that he was not in sight. He had found opportunity to slip away unobserved.

"By George! Ben has made it," said he, and his heart beat like a trip-hammer. "Now, what is the reason I am not as sharp as Ben? I am going to try it. That officer can't any more than shoot at me, and I will bet he don't hit me if I once get inside the bushes."

At that moment the officer was engaged in rating some of his men for what he called their "lubberly way of doing business," and his back was turned toward Bob. It was now or never. Hastily dropping his bucket, the boy ran quickly along the water's edge until a projecting root hid him from the sight of the mate, and then crawling up the bank he plunged into the woods. The tropical vegetation was so dense that he could scarcely work his way through it; but he made the best progress he could, unmindful of the heavy falls and severe scratches he received, and heedless of the other dangers he might run into. All he thought of was Ben's order to get as far away from the creek as possible. He might have saved himself a deal of unnecessary work if he had only known it, for no search was made for him. Of course the officer very soon discovered that he and Ben were gone, but he said nothing about it, knowing that if he sent his men into the woods to hunt them up he would lose every one of them. He simply redoubled his vigilance and hastened the work of filling the casks, in response to a warning gun from the ship; and when it was done he made fast to his tow and started down the creek.

Bob remained in his concealment nearly an hour, listening for sound of pursuit, and hardly daring to move for fear of guiding his enemies to his hiding-place, and then, believing that all danger was passed, made the best of his way back to the creek. When he emerged from the woods he saw the old sailor sitting on the bank, waiting for him.

"Oh, Ben, we've done it, haven't we?" exclaimed Bob, who was so excited that he could hardly speak plainly. "I couldn't feel any better if I was sailing into Clifton harbor."

"Well, I tell you, I would feel 'nough sight better than I do now," said Ben. "Where are we going to get something to eat?"

"I am sure I don't know. I left all that for you to attend to."

"Oh, you did, did you? Well, I have got news for you. Just around the bend above here lies a little trading-vessel, and I propose we go up and see if we can ship on her."

"You don't say! That's the best piece of news you have had for me in a long while," said Bob. "And what if our own ship comes back?"

"Do you suppose that a ship is a-going to waste time in picking up two discontented hands who have deserted her?" exclaimed Ben. "Them fellows that are left will have to look out for a belaying-pin now. But there's no danger of the Smart coming back. We're going to have a worse blow than we have had yet, so far, and if the ship isn't wrecked she'll be a long ways from here to-morrow. Let's go and see what they can do for us. I declare I am almost afraid to go with you."

"Why, how is that?" asked Bob, in surprise.

"You said if you could feel the solid ground under your feet, such as you used to be accustomed to at home, you would be yourself again," said Ben. "But you don't look a bit different now from what you did aboard the ship."

"That will wear off after a while, Ben," answered Bob. "Come on, and let us see what they can do for us."

Ben slowly arose to his feet and walked up the creek, and Bob followed close at his heels. In a few minutes they came within sight of the vessel of which the old sailor had spoken. She was riding at anchor, and her crew was engaged in hoisting a water-cask on board. There were but three white men on her deck, and the rest were all—

"Negroes, by George!" said Bob, in disgust.

"No, they ain't. They are Malays," replied the old sailor. "You had better be careful how you talk to them or they'll knock you flat. I wish that second mate had this crew to deal with."

"Why do you?"

"'Cause he'd be a little careful how he handles them, that's why. If he got on the rampage and tried to knock them around they would turn on him and throw him overboard. We don't want to hail the vessel while the crew is busy, so we will sit down here, and I'll tell you something about them."

Bob and the old sailor accordingly seated themselves on the bank, and the latter proceeded to relate short scraps of his own experience, which were of great interest to Bob, as they in some measure prepared him for the thrilling events that were so soon to follow. Among other things, Ben told his young companion that the majority of vessels trading among those islands employed Malays for foremast hands. They were good sailors, and civil and orderly enough when well treated, but they were ready to use their knives on the slightest provocation; and, moreover, they had laws and customs of their own which everybody must respect, from the cabin-boy up to the master. Besides the three white officers who managed the vessel, the Malays had officers of their own, called the first and second tindals, whose duties corresponded to the work of first and second mates. Did the officer on watch desire to shorten sail or change the course of the vessel, he gave the necessary order, not to the men direct, but to the tindal who was on watch with him, and who saw that the work was executed. When punishment was found to be necessary—and that happened nearly every day—the white officers did not inflict it themselves, but described the offense to the tindals, who dealt with the culprit as they saw fit. Sometimes the offender was flogged until he could scarcely move, and sometimes he was treated with mysterious indignities, which no one but himself and companions could understand. If the officers ever so far forgot themselves as to take the management of affairs into their own hands, a mutiny was the certain result.

"I tell you, a fellow has to keep his wits about him," said Bob.

"You're right he does," said Ben, in conclusion. "These traders are mostly all Englishmen, and that's one thing I don't like about this vessel. But it's go there or stay here, and which had you rather do?"

"Let us go aboard the vessel," said Bob. "We can't be much worse off there than we are here on shore, for these woods look as though they might be full of wild animals. You will be near enough to tell me if I do anything out of the way. This is a queer way of getting back to Clifton, ain't it?"

"Well, you are going there, all the same," said Ben. "We shall probably sail for Singapore, and that is right on our way home. We can't get there afoot, can we?"

"I should like to know if I am ever going to find my father."

"Why, of course you are going to find him. He is somewhere among these islands, and I'll bet anything on it. He wasn't drowned."

This was the way the old sailor always talked to Bob when he could exchange a word with him in private, and it did much to encourage him. He kept a close watch of the vessel while he talked, and when, at the end of a quarter of an hour, the cask was hoisted and stowed away, Ben waved his hat and shouted:

"Schooner ahoy!"

"Ay! ay!" came the answer, in gruff tones.

"We want to ship. Will you take us on board?"

"Who are you?"

"We belong to the American ship J. W. Smart, who came in here after water. She had to make an offing, and went away in such a hurry that she left us behind."

The officers of the schooner could see no reason to doubt this story. They had come in there for water themselves, and if they had not run so far up the creek would also have been obliged to haul off shore to escape the wind that was already howling through the trees. They held a short consultation, and presently their boat was manned by two of the Malays, who came over and took Bob and Ben on board the schooner. Bob took a good look at the Malays, and told himself that he really wished he was back aboard the Smart.