And the quarter that we gave them was to sink them in the sea:
_Down on the coast of the high Barbaree-ee._"

Long-drawn, like the mockery of a wail, the minor cadence wavered through
the stillness, and died away.

"The High Barbaree!" cried Trendon.

"You know it?" asked the captain, expectant of a clue.

"One of those cursed tunes you can't forget," said the surgeon. "Heard a
scoundrel of a beach-comber sing it years ago. Down in New Zealand, that
was. When the fever rose on him he'd pipe up. Used to beat time with a
steel hook he wore in place of a hand. The thing haunted me till I was
sorry I hadn't let the rascal die. This creature might have learned it
from him. Howls it out exactly like."

"I don't see that that helps us any," said Forsythe, looking down on the
preparations that were making to receive the unexpected guests.

With a deftness which had made the _Wolverine_ famous in the navy
for the niceties of seamanship, the great cruiser let down her tackle as
she drew skilfully alongside, and made fast, preparatory to lifting the
dory gently to her broad deck. But before the order came to hoist away,
one of the jackies who had gone down drew the covering back from the
still figure forward, and turned it over. With a half-stifled cry he
shrank back. And at that the tension of soul and mind on the
_Wolverine_ snapped, breaking into outcries and sudden, sharp
imprecations. The face revealed was that of Timmins, the bo's'n's mate,
who had sailed with the first vanished crew. A life preserver was