Below deck Dirty Hans quietly awakened the others. Knives, knotted rope ends, marlinspikes, whatever could be used as a weapon filled their hands and silent on their calloused bare feet they sneaked towards the Captain's cabin. They opened the door and out of the darkness a voice said, "What? Are we aground again?" but without a sound a cosh caused a sudden silence.

The First Mate helped wrap the body in canvas and roped it upright against a bulkhead.

Meanwhile, the ship had turned and was beating back towards the azure seas of the South Pacific.

Fortunately no drilling had been required, and the buckets began, drop by drop, to fill when the spiles were inserted.

"Good enough," whispered the First Mate. "We'll boil it down for syrup when we've got twenty gallons and there should be plenty more where that came from. Now let's make sail for Kakapupu."

Dirty Hans sniffed. "Drop the Book Master overboard, will he? Good that we were below to catch him and toss the Captain's Chest overboard instead! He won't be needin' it anymore!"

And to the drip,drip, drip of nascent maple syrup the crew turned to their duties, watch and watch.