Matters Grow Worse and Worse—The Mutiny—Commencement of Boat-Building, and Threatening Storms.  
One afternoon, about three weeks after the Red Eric had been wrecked on the sandbank, Captain Dunning went out on the point of rocks, and took up his accustomed position there. Habit had now caused him to go to the point with as much regularity as a sentinel. But on the present occasion anxiety was more deeply marked on his countenance than usual, for dark, threatening clouds were seen accumulating on the horizon, an unnatural stillness prevailed in the hot atmosphere and on the glassy sea, and everything gave indication of an approaching storm.
 
While he sat on a low rock, with his elbows on his knees, and his chin resting in his hands, he felt a light touch on his shoulder, and looking round, found Ailie standing by his side. Catching her in his arms, he pressed her fervently to his heart, and for the first time spoke to her in discouraging tones.
 
“My own darling,” said he, parting the hair from her forehead, and gazing at the child with an expression of the deepest sadness, “I fear we shall never quit this dreary spot.”
 
Ailie looked timidly in her father’s face, for his agitated manner, more than his words, alarmed her.
 
“Won’t we leave it, dear papa,” said she, “to go up yonder?” and she pointed to a gathering mass of clouds overhead, which, although heavy with dark shadows, had still a few bright, sunny points of resemblance to the fairy realms in which she delighted to wander in her daydreams.
 
The captain made no reply; but, shutting his eyes, and drawing Ailie close to his side, he uttered a long and fervent prayer to God for deliverance, if He should see fit, or for grace to endure with Christian resignation and fortitude whatever He pleased to send upon them.
 
When he concluded, and again looked up, Dr Hopley was standing beside them, with his head bowed upon his breast.
 
“I fear, doctor,” said the captain, “that I have broken my resolution not to alarm my dear Ailie by word or look. Yet why should I conceal from her the danger of our position? Her prayers for help ought to ascend, as well as ours, to Him who alone can deliver us from evil at any time, but who makes us to feel, as well as know, the fact at such times as these.”
 
“But I am not afraid, papa,” said Ailie quickly. “I’m never afraid when you are by me; and I’ve known we were in danger all along, for I’ve heard everybody talking about it often and often, and I’ve always prayed for deliverance, and surely it must come; for has not Jesus said if we ask anything in His name He will give it to us?”
 
“True, darling; but He means only such things as will do us good.”
 
“Of course, papa, if I asked for a bad thing, I would not expect Him to give me that.”
 
“Deliverance from death,” said the doctor, “is a good thing, yet we cannot be sure that God will grant our prayer for that.”
 
“There are worse things than death, doctor,” replied the captain; “it may be sometimes better for men to die than to live. It seems to me that we ought to use the words, ‘if it please the Lord,’ more frequently than we do in prayer. Deliverance from sin needs no such ‘if,’ but deliverance from death does.”
 
At this point the conversation was interrupted by Tim Rokens, who came up to the captain, and said respectfully—
 
“If ye please, sir, it ’ud be as well if ye wos to speak to the men; there’s somethin’ like mutiny a-goin’ on, I fear.”
 
“Mutiny! why, what about?”
 
“It’s about the spirits. Some on ’em says as how they wants to enjoy theirselves here as much as they can, for they won’t have much chance o’ doin’ so ashore any more. It’s my belief that fellow Tarquin’s at the bottom o’t.”
 
“There’s not much spirits aboard the wreck to fight about,” said the captain, somewhat bitterly, as they all rose, and hurried towards the hut. “I only brought a supply for medicine; but it must not be touched, however little there is.”
 
When the captain came up, he found the space in front of their rude dwelling a scene of contention and angry dispute that bade fair to end in a fight. Tarquin was standing before the first mate, with his knife drawn, and using violent language and gesticulations towards him, while the latter stood by the raft, grasping a handspike, with which he threatened to knock the steward down if he set foot on it. The men were grouped round them, some with looks that implied a desire to side with Tarquin, while others muttered “Shame!”
 
“Shame!” cried Tarquin, looking fiercely round on his shipmates, “who cried shame? We’re pretty sure all on us to be starved to death on this reef; and it’s my opinion, that since we haven’t got to live long, we should try to enjoy ourselves as much as we can. There’s not much spirits aboard, more’s the pity; but what there is I shall have. So again I say, who cried ‘Shame?’”
 
“I did,” said Glynn Proctor, stepping quickly forward; “and I invite all who think with me to back me up.”
 
“Here ye are, me boy,” said Phil Briant, starting forward, and baring his brawny arms, as was his invariable custom in such circumstances. “It’s meself as’ll stick by ye, lad, av the whole crew should go with that half-caste crokidile.”
 
Gurney and Dick Barnes immediately sided with Glynn also, but Jim Scroggles and Nikel Sling, and, to the surprise of every one, Markham, the second mate, sided with the steward. As the opposing parties glanced at each other, Glynn observed that, although his side was superior in numbers, some of the largest and most powerful men of the crew were among his opponents, and he felt that a conflict between such men must inevitably be serious. Matters had almost come to a crisis when Dr Hopley and the captain approached the scene of action. The latter saw at a glance the state of affairs, and stepping up to the steward, ordered him at once into the hut.
 
Tarquin seemed to waver for a moment under the stern gaze of his commander; but he suddenly swore a terrible oath, and said that he would not obey.
 
“You’re no longer in command of us,” he said gruffly, “now that you have lost your ship. Every man may do what he pleases.”
 
“May he?” replied the captain; “then it pleases me to do that!” and, launching out his clenched right hand with all his might, he hit the steward therewith right between the eyes.
 
Tarquin went down as if he had been shot, and lay stunned and at full length upon the sand.
 
“Now, my lads,” cried the captain, turning towards the men, “what he said just now is so far right. Having lost my ship, I am no longer entitled to command you; but my command does not cease unless a majority of you choose that it should. Tarquin has taken upon himself to decide the question, without asking your opinion, which amounts to mutiny, and mutiny, under the circumstances in which we are placed, requires to be promptly dealt with. I feel it right to say this, because I am a man of peace, as you well know, and do not approve of a too ready appeal to the fists for the settlement of a dispute.”
 
“Ah, then, more’s the pity!” interrupted Briant, “for ye use them oncommon well.”
 
A suppressed laugh followed this remark.
 
“Silence, men, this is no time for jesting. One of our shipmates has, not long since, been taken suddenly from us; it may be that we shall all of us be called into the presence of our Maker before many days pass over us. We have much to do that will require to be done promptly and well, if we would hope to be delivered at all, and the question must be decided now whether I am to command you, or every one is to do what he pleases.”
 
“I votes for Cap’en Dunning,” exclaimed Gurney.
 
“So does I,” cried Jim Scroggles; who, being somewhat weather-cockish in his nature, turned always with wonderful facility to the winning side.
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