CHAPTER VIII: ON BOARD THE “POLLY ANN”

When Raynor opened his eyes again he found himself lying on a bunk in a small cabin. Across the single port-hole which lighted it was a red calico curtain. Rough beams crossed the ceiling, from which swung a ship’s lantern, unlighted, of course, at that time of day.

He was on board a ship and a ship that was under way, for he could feel the rise and heave of her hull as she took the seas. With keen curiosity, he sat up. The furniture enumerated was all that he could see in the cabin. There was not even a strip of carpet on the floor, which was of well scrubbed planking.

He looked out of the port. All about him were tumbling green waves through which the schooner,—for he had long since guessed he was on board the craft that rescued him,—was driving smartly. He felt slightly dizzy and sat down on the bunk for an instant before he rose to open the door and find his rescuers and thank them. When he did so he experienced a shock.

The door was locked!

The briefest of investigations proved that it was locked from the outside, showing that he had been deliberately shut in, though for what purpose he could not imagine. He knocked impatiently at the door, hoping to attract the attention of somebody who could explain the mystery but nobody came. Raynor sat down on the bunk, again listening for any sign of movement without.

But none came for a long time. There was a great trampling to and fro of feet on deck and the timbers of the schooner complained as though she was being forced through the water, but this, and the constant rush of water along her sides, were the only sounds.

“Bother it all,” muttered Raynor, “this is a fine way to treat a rescued castaway. Anyone would think I was a prisoner.”

But at last there sounded steps outside and the rattling of a key in the lock and the door was flung open. The yellow-bearded man stood in the doorway, almost filling its frame with his huge bulk. He looked down at Raynor with a rather amused smile.

“I suppose you have been thinking that we don’t treat our guests very well on the Polly Ann?” he said in a deep, gruff voice.

“Well, I don’t see why I was locked in,” rejoined Raynor in a rather aggrieved tone.

“Maybe it didn’t occur to you that we might have private matters on board that we don’t want 

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