The water was rising higher and higher, and the gusts, forerunners
of a steady breeze, were growing stiffer and stiffer. And between
the gusts, the prisoners, having gotten away with a week's grub,
took to crowding first to one side and then to the other till the
Reindeer rocked like a cockle-shell. Yellow Handkerchief
approached me, and, pointing out his village on the Point Pedro
beach, gave me to understand that if I turned the Reindeer in that
direction and put them ashore, they, in turn, would go to bailing.
By now the water in the cabin was up to the bunks, and the bed-
clothes were sopping. It was a foot deep on the cockpit floor.
Nevertheless I refused, and I could see by George's face that he
was disappointed.
"If you don't show some nerve, they'll rush us and throw us overboard," I said
