192 THE BOY CAPTAIN.

It was not possible for Bean to continue the conversa-
tion. The loss of blood had made him so weak that to
speak even these few words was an exertion too great for
his strength, and Miss Dunham insisted on his remaining
silent.

“T can tell you all we know, sir,” Sam said, understand-
ing that it was imprudent for the mate to waste the little
remaining strength he had; but realizing that the facts of
the matter should be understood as soon as possible.
«Bob and I were just coming from the forecastle when the
coolies chucked Freeman overboard; he didn’t make any
noise, so I reckon was pretty nigh done for by the first
blow. I picked up a spare pump-handle that I’d seen lay-
in’ alongside the forecastle hatch, an’ turned round in time
to knock Jolly Bart down as he struck at Bob. The un-
lucky part of the whole business is that I didn’t kill the
villain. Then one of the coolies come up an’ made a pass
at me, jest as Bob got his back agin the foremast, an’ in
less time than it takes to tell it the whole crowd was on
us. We heard the captain’s order, an’ got aft pretty
lively.”

“Do you think you two and Freeman were the only
ones who remained true?’’ Miss Dunham asked, her voice
as firm as if it had been some commonplace question.

“T wouldn’t like to say so, miss; but now I think the
matter over, it seems as if pretty nigh all of ’em, but us
three, had a hand in it, except the nigger, an’ I reckon
he’s layin’ low in his berth, skeered mighty close to death.
You see —”