Mrs. Drabble, and gave up, with her, the whole
case.

"I see nothing for it but the Voice of
Nature," said the captain, holding fast to Mr.
Purling's idea. "Try it, Jolly—you can but
try it."

"Something must be done,' said the doctor.
"I can't leave the women alone any longer;
and the moment I get below they will both ask
for their babies. Wait here, till you're fit to be
seen, Mrs. Drabble, and then follow me. Voice
of Nature!" added Mr. Jolly, contemptuously,
as he descended the cabin stairs. "Oh yes,
I'll try it—much good the Voice of Nature will
do us, gentlemen. You shall judge for
yourselves."

Favoured by the night, Mr. Jolly cunningly
turned down the dim lamps in the sleeping
cabins to a mere glimmer, on the pretext that
light was bad for his patients' eyes. He then
took up the first of the two unlucky babies that
came to hand, marked the clothes in which it
was wrapped with a blot of ink, and carried it
in to Mrs. Smallchild, choosing her cabin
merely because he happened to be nearest to it.
The second baby (distinguished by having no
mark) was taken by Mrs. Drabble to Mrs.
Heavysides. For a certain time, the two mothers and
the two babies were left together. They were
then separated again by medical order; and
were afterwards reunited, with the difference
that the marked baby went on this occasion to
Mrs. Heavysides, and the unmarked baby to
Mrs. Smallchild—the result, in the obscurity of
the sleeping cabins, proving to be that one baby
did just as well as the other, and that the Voice
of Nature was (as Mr. Jolly had predicted)
totally incompetent to settle the existing
difficulty.

"While night serves us, Captain Gillop, we
shall do very well," said the doctor, after he had
duly reported the failure of Mr. Purling's
suggested experiment. "But when morning comes,
and daylight shows the difference between the
children, we must be prepared with a course of
some kind. If the two mothers, below, get the
slightest suspicion of the case as it really stands,
the nervous shock of the discovery may do
dreadful mischief. They must be kept deceived,
till they're up and well again, in the interests of
their own health. We must choose a baby for
each of them when to-morrow comes, and then
hold to the choice, till the mothers are up
again. The question is, who's to take the
responsibility. I don't usually stick at trifles—
but I candidly admit that I'm afraid of it."

"I decline meddling in the matter, on the
ground that I am a perfect stranger," said Mr.
Sims.

"And I object to interfere, from precisely
similar motives," added Mr. Purling; agreeing
for the first time with a proposition that
emanated from his natural enemy all through the
voyage.

"Wait a minute, gentlemen," said Captain
Gillop. "I've got this difficult matter, as I
think, in its right bearings. We must make a
clean breast of it to the husbands, and let them
take the responsibility."

"I believe they won't accept it," observed
Mr. Sims.

"And I believe they will," asserted Mr.
Purling, relapsing into his old habits.

"If they won't," said the captain, firmly,
"I'm master on board this ship—and, as sure
as my name's Thomas Gillop, I'll take the
responsibility!"

This courageous declaration settled all
difficulties for the time being; and a council was
held to decide on future proceedings. It
was resolved to remain passive until the next
morning, on the last faint chance that a few
hours' sleep might compose Mrs. Drabble's
bewildered memory. The babies were to be
moved into the main cabin before the daylight
grew bright—or, in other words, before Mrs.
Smallchild or Mrs. Heavysides could identify the
infant who had passed the night with her for
the time being. The doctor and the captain
were to be assisted by Mr. Purling, Mr. Sims,
and the first mate, in the capacity of witnesses;
and the assembly so constituted was to meet, in
consideration of the emergency of the case, at
six o'clock in the morning, punctually.

At six: o'clock accordingly, with the weather
fine, and the wind still fair, the proceedings
began. For the last time Mr. Jolly cross-
examined Mrs. Drabble, assisted by the
captain, and supervised by the witnesses. Nothing
whatever was elicited from the unfortunate
stewardess. The doctor pronounced her confusion
to be chronic, and the captain and the
witnesses unanimously agreed with him.

The next experiment tried was the revelation
of the true state of the case to the husbands.
Mr. Smallchild happened, on this occasion, to be
"squaring his accounts" for the morning; and
the first articulate words which escaped him
in reply to the disclosure, were: "Devilled
biscuit and anchovy paste." Further perseverance
merely elicited an impatient request that they
would "pitch him overboard at once, and the
two babies along with him." Serious
remonstrance was tried next, with no better effect.
"Settle it how you like," said Mr. Smallchild,
faintly. "Do you leave it to me, sir, as
commander of this vessel?" asked Captain Gillop.
(No answer.) "Nod your head, sir, if you
can't speak." Mr. Smallchild nodded his head
roundwise on his pillow—and fell asleep.
Does that count for leave to me to act?"
asked Captain Gillop of the witnesses. And the
witnesses answered, decidedly, Yes.

The ceremony was then repeated with Simon
Heavysides, who responded, as became so
intelligent a man, with a proposal of his own, for
solving the difficulty.

"Captain Gillop and gentlemen," said the
carpenter, with fluent and melancholy politeness,
"I should wish to consider Mr. Smallchild
before myself in this matter. I am quite willing
to part with my baby (whichever he is); and I
respectfully propose that Mr. Smallchild should
take both the children, and so make quite sure