NAMPANG ISLAND. 39

looks very much as if they tried to do all the mischief
possible before leaving.”

There was good reason why the self-elected captain
should feel dismayed by the task before him.

Hardly a rope was in place; the decks were strewn
with litter of all kinds, and it would be difficult to im-
agine a scene of greater confusion than that presented
from Ben's point of view.

“Brig ahoy!” the young sailor shouted, as he leaped
down from the rail, and an instant later a black, woolly
head appeared from the door of the galley, the ebony face
of which displayed signs of the liveliest fear.

«Whar — whar—whar you’se cum frum?” the owner
of the head asked, in a trembling voice, acting as if unde-
cided whether it would not be safer to barricade himself
inside his kitchen, than run the risk of an encounter with
a person who had apparently risen from the bottom of the
sea,

_“I’m just from Davy Jones’s locker, and come to find
out why you are living so long,” Ben replied, with a laugh,
as he resolutely banished the fears which had assailed him
after one glance at the decks.

“G’way frum hyar! G’way frum hyar!’’ the cook
shouted, and disappeared for an instant to procure a long
carving-knife, which he waved to and fro frantically as the
young man approached the galley.

“Put up that knife. Put it back where you got it from.
I have n’t come down here to do you any harm ; but only
to take charge of the brig. We picked up some of your