The boat lay riding to her kedge at less than twenty yards from shore. She was in not more than two feet of water. Peter would not risk bringing the boat closer inshore, lest, with her full complement, she would grate over the coral and so injure herself.

Mahmed was first on board, his duty being to assist the two lascars to hoist Preston over the gunwale. This operation was successfully performed without even a groan or a gasp from the injured man, and the lascars returned to carry the portly Mrs. Shallop through the water.

They had a difficult task this time, for the lady confessed to twelve stone, and probably tipped the scale at fifteen. Nevertheless the lascars tackled the job with such a will that their energy was more than sufficient.

Mrs. Shallop began to rock. The oscillations continued until in desperation she clutched at the head of one of her bearers. At the same moment his feet struck a particularly sharp patch of rock. Never "strong on his pins", and additionally handicapped by an unequal share of his fifteen-stone burden, the Indian found himself falling. The prospect of being sandwiched between the sharp coral and the portly mem-sahib was too much for his self-control. With a vigorous and despairing effort he threw himself clear. The other lascar, unable to maintain his charge, let Mrs. Shallop go with a run.

For some seconds she floundered in eighteen inches of tepid water, her horrified features mercifully obscured from the onlookers by a miniature waterspout. Before Mostyn could go to her assistance she regained her feet. For a very brief interval there was absolute silence. Even the lapping of the wavelets upon the shore seemed to have ceased.

Then the storm broke. Mrs. Shallop\'s pent-up loquacity let itself loose, after being kept under control for nearly forty-eight hours. She stormed at the lascars until they took to their heels, but fortunately they were ignorant of what she did say. Then she directed her battery upon Peter, although he was quite at a loss to know why he should be marked down in this fashion; while for vehemence her expressions—to quote the immortal Pepys—"outvied the daughters of Billingsgate".

Mostyn suffered the storm in silence. Most people in their passions "give themselves away", and in this instance Mrs. Shallop\'s outburst simply confirmed Peter\'s doubts as to the lady\'s claims to be a naval captain\'s daughter.

But when Mrs. Shallop included Olive in her revilings Peter\'s square jaw tightened.

"Enough of this!" he exclaimed sternly. "On board—at once!"

Mrs. Shallop hesitated, trying, perhaps, to find a flaw in the armour of her youthful antagonist. For his part Peter kept his eyes fixed steadily upon the infuriated woman, although he found himself inquiring what he could do to enforce obedience should she prove obdurate.

The tension was broken by Preston\'s gruff voice. From where he lay in the stern-sheets the Acting Chief could see nothing of what was going on. One ear was covered with bandages, but the other was doubly sharp of hearing. To him a refusal to obey lawful orders was mutiny, whether it came from a dago, "Dutchie", or, as in the present instance, from a blindly angry woman.

"You had one ducking by accident," he shouted. "You\'ll get another by design—in double quick time—if you don\'t take your place in the boat."

It was high time, Preston thought, that he had a say in the matter. It was a drastic step to threaten a woman with physical punishment, but there were limitations to the patience and forbearance of himself and his companions. A person of the explosive and abusive temperament of Mrs. Shallop in the boat was not only an unmitigated nuisance but a positive danger. Shorthanded as they were, they could not afford to run the additional risk of being hampered by an irresponsible passenger should they get in a tight squeeze, when the safety of all concerned depended upon coolness, quickness, and unhampered action.

The prospect of another sousing quelled the termagant\'s spirit. Meekly she waded to the boat and scrambled unassisted over the gunwale.

"Now, Olive!" exclaimed Peter. "To avoid a repetition of part of the performance——"

He lifted the girl in his arms and carried her through the water.

By this time the lascars had returned, and the boat\'s complement was now complete. The kedge was broken out and stowed, and under oars the repaired craft headed for the open sea, where the dancing ripples betokened the presence of a breeze—and a fair wind at that.

Peter was at the helm, with one hand grasping the tiller and the other shading his eyes from the dazzling sunlight. The two lascars rowed, while Mahmed, armed with the lead-line, took frequent soundings until the boat had drawn clear of the outlying reefs.

"Way \'nough!" ordered Mostyn. "Hoist sail!"

While the Indians were engaged in this operation the Wireless Officer, handing Olive the tiller, made a hasty yet comprehensive survey of the bilges. Except for a slight leaking \'twixt wind and water, the boat seemed absolutely tight. The canvas patches, reinforced as they were with woodwork, were standing the strain splendidly and gave not the slightest indication of leaking. Whether they would withstand the "working" of the boat in a seaway was still a matter that had to be proved.

"What\'s the course, old man?" asked Peter.

"Keep her at nor\'-by-east," replied Preston. "Another thirty-six hours ought to work the oracle."

"It\'s nearly a dead run," reported Mostyn, after he had steadied the boat on her course.

"So much the better, s\'long as you don\'t gybe her," rejoined the Acting Chief. "Not so much chance of making leeway."

Peter saw the force of this contention, but that did not alter the fact that of all forms of sailing "running" was what he least liked. It soon became apparent that there were others who were of a similar opinion, for, as the boat rolled heavily before the hot, sultry wind, Mrs. Shallop and the lascars were quickly hors de combat, showing no enthusiasm when the first meal on board for that day was served out.

Even Olive Baird, used as she was to sailing, felt the motion of the boat uncomfortable. The light breeze was scarcely perceptible, although it was making the sail draw well. Not only was the sun pouring down with considerable strength, but the sea was reflecting hot rays of dazzling light.

Already the island astern was a mere pin-prick on the horizon. Ahead and on either beam was the now monotonous expanse of sea and sky.

Late in the afternoon a shoal of flying fish came athwart the boat\'s course. Evidently they were being pursued, for they flew blindly, several of them bringing up against the sail and dropping stunned upon the thwarts.

"Dolphins in pursuit, I think," explained Peter, in answer to Olive\'s question. "I don\'t know about that, though," he added after a pause. "Look at that."

He pointed astern. Twenty yards away was the triangular dorsal fin of a shark.

"The brute," ejaculated Olive, with a slight shudder. "I hope he goes off soon."

But the girl\'s wish was not to be fulfilled. If the shark had been chasing the flying fish he no longer did so. Perhaps he scented promising and more satisfying fare, for without any apparent effort he began to follow the boat, rarely increasing or decreasing the distance.

"Hang the shark," exclaimed Peter. "Here, Olive, is a chance to show what a good shot you are."

He handed the girl his automatic. Without hesitation Olive took the somewhat complicated weapon. Peter noted, with a certain degree of satisfaction, that she handled it fearlessl............