He opened his state-room door and entered the saloon with a cheery “Good-morning, gentlemen!”
“Good-morning, Mr Damerell,” was the equally cheery reply; and then Mr Gaunt, happening to notice the lad’s worn and haggard appearance, exclaimed:
“Why, good heavens, Ned, what is the matter? Are you ill?”
“Hush!” said Ned. “No, I am not ill, Mr Gaunt, but I am in great trouble and perplexity. I have passed through a rather startling experience during the night; and”—in a low tone of voice, so that the ladies, if awake, might not hear him—“I have bad news to communicate. Will you kindly step into my cabin for a moment?”
The two gentlemen passed into the state-room and seated themselves on the sofa-locker, Ned following and closing the door after him.
“Now, Ned, what is it?” asked the engineer. “If I may judge from the expression of your countenance the matter is serious; and, if so, out with it at once. You need not be afraid of startling us, I fancy.”
“You will be startled, nevertheless, I expect,” was the reply. “The matter is simply this. The crew have seized the ship, and poor Captain Blyth and Mr Manners are at this moment close prisoners in the deck-house for’ard!”
The two gentlemen stared first at each other, and then at Ned, in the utmost perplexity. For a moment or two they were both so completely astounded that neither could find a word to say. At length, however, the engineer so far recovered his powers of speech as to ejaculate:
“But—but—good heavens! what will become of the women and children? And how is it, sir, that, if what you state be true, you are free—as you apparently are?”
“You are all perfectly safe—I hope and believe—at all events for the present. And the price of your safety is a promise on my part to faithfully navigate the ship to the best of my ability for the mutineers,” answered Ned with quivering lips; and then suddenly and completely overcome by a sense of his desolate and desperate situation, the poor lad turned away, buried his face in his hands, and burst into tears.