"Not in a hurry," said Simpson, as they began to crawl back toward their
hammocks; "not in a hurry; I've been in such scrapes as this before, and
can't be fooled easy."

"What do you mean?" inquired Frank.

"Why, I mean that this pie was made on purpose for us," said Simpson; "it
has got some kind of medicine in it that will make a fellow sick. If we
should eat it, they would not be long in finding out who stole the pies."

"I'll tell you what to do with it," said Frank, suddenly; "let's give it
to Jenkins, the boatswain's mate; he's a mean fellow, and I shouldn't be
sorry to see him sick.'

"That's just what I was going to do with it," said Simpson. "Now, you go
back to your hammocks, and I'll carry him the pie."

"As Simpson had taken particular notice of the place where Jenkins was in
the habit of slinging his hammock, he had no difficulty whatever in
finding it.

"I say, shipmate," he whispered, shaking the mate by the shoulder.

"What do you want?" he growled.

"Wake up," said Simpson; "I've got a nice pie for you; do you want it?"

"Of course I do," answered the mate, taking it from Simpson's hand. "But
who are you?" he inquired, for it was so dark that he could not have