THE BATTLE. 211

room and softly closed the door, going at once to the place
from which he intended to begin the battle.

The day would break in less than half an hour.

He had no preparations to make, save to place the car-
tridges on a shelf where they could be gotten at most
readily, and assure himself his weapons were loaded, for
he had taken Miss Dunham’s revolver on this occasion, in
order that he might discharge the greatest possible num-
ber of shots at the moment when the mutineers were first
surprised.

Listening intently he could hear nothing which be-
tokened that the men were in the vicinity of the window,
and, that the time might seem to pass more rapidly, he
began cutting at the slats of the shutter with his knife so
there should be no question of their breaking when he was
ready to open hostilities.

It was as if the day would never come, and this time
of inaction, just before the battle which might end all
days in this life for him, was filled with anxiety and ap-
prehension.

Then the growing light came stealing over the restless
water ; the veil of darkness was lifted gradually, and

«“ Thé wind came up out of the sea,
And said, ‘Oh, mist, make room for me.’
It hailed the ships and cried:

‘Sail on, ye mariners, the nightis done.’”

As soon as it was possible for him to distinguish objects
within the room, he knew the time had arrived when he