A PLOT OVERHEARD.

"Say, didn't that boy move?"—the prisoner that Herc knew as Carl put the question.

The lad heard rapid footsteps pace across the narrow cell, and felt the hot breath of one of the men in his ear as he lay still and feigned slumber as best he could, although his heart beat so wildly he was sure its agitation must have been audible to the two men.

Apparently, however, his ruse succeeded. The men were satisfied that he was wrapped in slumber, for, with a growl, the one that had bent over him said:

"He's off; sound as a top."

"A good thing," rejoined the other, "both for us and for him."

It was Carl who spoke, and the tone in which his soft, refined voice uttered the words left the Dreadnought Boy no room to doubt that if the two plotters had imagined he had overheard them they would have done something exceedingly unpleasant to prevent their secret being betrayed. As it was, however, they seemed to feel no uneasiness and resumed their conversation.

"The yacht will be waiting at Boco del Toros, about ten miles above Guantanamo Bay," continued the black-browed man. Herc recognized his bearlike growl. "All we have to do when we get the plans is to steal aboard and sail. Her captain will be prepared for us, and will take us on board when we give the signal."

"Then all that we will have to do will be to waylay Varian," said Carl in his soft way, which, mild as it seemed, yet impressed Herc with the same sense of chill as if the cold muzzle of a revolver had been pressed to the nape of his neck.

"That's it. An easy way of earning ten thousand dollars, eh?"

"Yes, if—if we don't get caught."

"No fear of that," laughed the black-browed man; "at any rate, if we are it will be our own fault. But I see no chance of a slip-up. Varian sails from New York to Havana on a vessel of the Ward line. He will put up at a hotel at Guantanamo. We are to meet the others ashore, and if all goes well we'll finish our business in a few hours. If not——"

"Well, if not, we'll have to get what we're after from the captain himself, and that's going to be difficult and perhaps fatal for him."

"Well, I've taken longer chances than that for less money," laughed Carl's companion. "Lucky thing they didn't look back into our records, or they'd have found out a thing or two which would have made us very undesirable subjects for Uncle Sam's navy. Likewise Kennell, I guess. I'd 'a' hard time to get him to join, but a golden bait will catch the shyest fish."

Carl gave a high-pitched chuckle, almost a giggle, but the two worthies instantly lapsed into what seemed sullen silence as the key of their jailer grated in the lock of the bulkhead door.

As for Herc, he judged that his best and safest course was to emit a loud snore, which he did. So well was his slumber simulated that the master-at-arms who had entered, accompanied by two orderlies carrying the prisoners' food, exclaimed in an astonished tone:

"That youngster must be an older hand than I thought him. He's actually sleeping like a baby."

Herc pretended to feel very sleepy when the master-at-arms shook his shoulder and indicated a smoking dinner of cornbeef and cabbage, flanked by bread and butter and a big mug of coffee.

"Here, wake up and eat this," commanded the officer; "you ought to be alive to your luck. The other prisoners only get full rations once a day. They have to dine on bread and water."

The boy stretched his arms as if he was only partially awake, and, after what he judged to be a proper interval of feigning sleepiness, fell to on his hot dinner. Empty as he was, the food heartened him up wonderfully, despite the scowls that his two companions leveled at him as he ate. When the master-at-arms arrived, just before two bells—one o'clock—to take his prisoners to the tribunal at the mast, Sam felt better prepared to face his ordeal than he had a few hours previously.

The captain's "court" convened just forward of the stern awnings, and a little abaft the towering "cage" aftermast.

The "old man," in full uniform, with a sword at his side, Lieutenant-Commander Scott, and several of the officers stood in a little group chatting, as the prisoners were brought aft. All wore side arms and what the Jackie calls "quarter-deck faces"—meaning that they looked as stern and uncompromising as flint.

"I guess I'll get life," muttered Herc to himself, as he heard the stern doom, of stoppage of five days' pay and ten days in the brig, without future shore leave, pronounced on three sailors who had been found guilty of coming on duty in an intoxicated condition, at New York.

"You men are to understand that the United States navy has no place for men who wilfully indulge in such practices," the captain had said, with blighting emphasis, as the men trembled before him. "Clean men, clean-living men is the material the government wants, and such as you are better out of the service. The navy is better off without you if you go on as you have been doing."

Herc felt his cheeks blanch as pale as had the countenances of the guilty ones as he heard this stern speech.

Next came the turns of the two men who had shared the same cell with him.

"Carl Schultz, ordinary seaman, and Silas Wagg, ordinary seaman," read the captain's yeoman who acted as a sort of "clerk of the court."

"What's the offense?" asked the captain.

"Overstaying their shore leave four hours, sir," was the rejoinder.

"Any previous bad record?"

"No, sir. I have found none," volunteered the master-at-arms.

"Men," said the captain, in the same icy tones as he had used toward the three intemperate prisoners, "you are guilty of a serious offense. In the navy regularity should be a watchword with all of us. It may seem to you that to overstay your leave by four hours was but a small matter, and that you yourselves would not be missed among eight hundred or more men. Yet every one of the crew and each of your forty-two officers has a niche of his own to fill. We are all cogs in the same great machine, servants working for the good of the same government.

"If any one of us is derelict in his duty, he is not only derelict to himself and to his officers, but to his country and his flag. Always bear that in mind. As this is your first offense, and your officers tell me you are hard-working men and good seamen, I shall dismiss you with a reprimand. But mind," he added sternly, "if either of you is brought before me again I shall not prove so lenient. Carry on."

With grateful faces, the two men hastened off forward.

How Herc longed to tell of what he had heard in the cell! But he dreaded to make himself appear ridiculous by reciting what might seem an improbable story, cooked up by one who already rested under a cloud, so he said nothing.

In fact, he was not allowed long to entertain these thoughts, for hardly had the two worthies who had shared his cell made the best of their way forward, before the yeoman, in a voice that affected Herc much as a sudden plunge into ice water would have done, shouted out:

"Ordinary Seaman Taylor!"

The story of Herc's knocking out the bully had already spread through the ship—a place where gossip travels as swiftly as through a small village—and the officers and the few men whose duties brought them near to the "court room"—eyed Herc curiously as he stepped forward, with head bared, holding himself as erect as possible. He saluted as he clicked his heels together with painstaking precision. His heart beat fast and thick, however, and there was an anxious look in his eyes as he faced his inquisitors.

Herc was a brave boy, full of pluck and grit; but the ordeal before him might have caused a stouter heart than his to quail.

"Master-at-arms, what do you know about this case?" asked the captain, as Herc stood rigid, twisting his cap in his big hands.

The master-at-arms rapidly rehearsed what he knew of the affair, and then the captain turned to his executive officer.

"Mr. Scott, there is a complainant in this case, is there not?"

"Yes, sir," was the reply. "Mr. Andrews, who had the deck this morning, so reported to me."

"Able Seaman and Gunner Ralph Kennell is the man, sir," said Lieutenant Andrews, stepping forward.

"Very good. Where is this man Kennell?"

"Here, sir," said Kennell, stepping forward in his turn.

His face shone with soap, which yet had not been able wholly to eradicate the traces of slate-colored paint with which he had been shower-bathed. Over his left eye a big bit of plaster showed where "Pills" had patched him up. Beneath the same eye a dark bruise was beginning to spread. His jaw was also woefully swollen where Herc had landed his effective blow.

"Now, Kennell," began the captain, who was perfectly aware of the bully's record, and marvelled as much as his officers how such a slim lad as Herc could have inflicted such injuries on him; "now, Kennell, tell us in as few words as you can what occurred this morning between you and Ordinary Seaman Taylor."

"Well, sir," began Kennell sullenly, "I was making my way aft to clean brasswork, sir, when this man here, sir, drops a pot of paint on my head, sir, out of pure malice, as I believe, sir."

"Never mind what you believe. What happened then?"

"Then, when I protested, sir," went on Kennell, "he climbs down from the turret he was a-painting, sir, and strikes me."

"Where?"

"Right by the forward twelve-inch turret, sir."

"You mean your eye, don't you?"

"Well, sir, he struck me all over, sir," complained Kennell.

"And you had done nothing to him?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Very good. You may stand aside. Taylor, what have you to say to this story?"

"Not much, sir, except that it is a fabrication," said Herc indignantly, his fear at the officers swallowed in his wrath at Kennell's lying tale. "It is true I dropped the paint on his head. That was accidental, however. So far as his injuries go, I believe that he got the cut over his eye when he fell against the turret. He hit it an awful whack, sir." Herc grinned broadly at the recollection.

"No levity, please. You are to understand this is a serious matter. Who struck the first blow?"

Herc hesitated. It was no part of his ideas of what was right to tell tales on a fellow seaman, and yet Kennell had lied cruelly about him. Suddenly his mind was made up.

"I had rather not say, sir," he said at length in a low tone.

"What! Are you aware that this is a confession of guilt, or equivalent to it?"

"Perhaps so, sir, but I cannot say," repeated Herc stubbornly.

"Very well, then," said the captain in his most dignified tones, "I shall have to inflict a heavier punishment on you than I would otherwise. You are one of the two recruits whose gallant conduct on the Rhode Island caught my favorable attention. I am therefore doubly reluctant to punish you. But the discipline of the service must be upheld. Seemingly, you are screening some one. You must learn that your officers are to be obeyed, and also the regulations. No regulation is more mandatory than that forbidding fighting and unseemly conduct on the ships of the United States Navy. I shall therefore sentence you to two days in the brig with prison rations. Master-at-arms!"

"Sir!"

"Carry on!"

The officer saluted, and a few minutes later poor Herc was once more in his steel cell. This time he occupied it alone, however.

"Well, two days is not such a very long time," mused Herc philosophically; "and I expected at least two months, by the way that captain talked to me. I'm in here now, but let that old 'dog Kennel' look out for me when I'm foot loose again!"