spring was merging into a fiery Southern summer. The sun blazed with
tropic splendour in a sky of unspotted sapphire; the blue, translucent
waters danced in unison with the hearts on deck, rippling into gold and
silver and the sparkle of a myriad diamonds. Eager eyes saw the symbols
of wealth in all things, and a fever of exultation and expectancy burned
in the ship. Done was like a man drunken. It was as if sunshine were a
strange, new thing to him, as if he had never breathed deeply and truly
the good air of God till now. He had big affectionate impulses; he felt
that the sailors were fine fellows, his shipmates cheerful souls. He
would have liked to shake hands all round and assure them of his
friendship, but sailors and passengers were full of their own affairs,
and took no notice of him. For two days past there had been much
whispering amongst the crew and the men under contract to work the ship
that had been left crewless in Australian waters. Done detected an
undercurrent of excitement, and noticed many guarded consultations. That
there was some conspiracy afloat he was convinced, but the plotting was
conducted in so cheerful--even hilarious--a spirit that he suspected no
evil.

The ship was anchored off Queenscliff to bide the coming of the noisy,
grimy, paddle-tug engaged to tow her wearily into Hobson's Bay, and up to
her berth by the primitive river wharf. And now speculation and curiosity
were awakened in the cabins by the peculiar conduct of Captain Evan in
stationing armed sailors along the ship, larboard and starboard.

Shortly after, Done, who was watching developments with keen interest,
saw a Scandinavian seaman named Jorgensen steal over the side, and slip
into the sea like a porpoise. Jorgensen struck out for the shore,
swimming under water for the most part, till he had covered a distance of
about two hundred yards from the ship. Others, including the armed