he crew. "Deaken--_hey_! Well, I see no such name
written here." I did not doubt that. Save my name, and Newman's, I
doubted if any name on the articles could be recognized by any man
present. "I see one name here, written in just such a flourishing hand
as a man of your parts might possess--- 'Montgomery Mulvaney.' That is
undoubtedly you; you are Montgomery Mulvaney!"

"But, Captain--" commenced the parson, desperately.

"Shut up!" snapped Swope. "Now, listen here, my man! You may be a
Holy Joe ashore, or you may not be, that does not concern me. But I
find you on board my vessel, signed on my articles as 'Montgomery
Mulvaney, A.B.' Yet you tell me yourself you are no sailor. Well, my
fancy man, Holy Joe you may be, stiff you are, but you'll be a sailor
before this passage ends, or I'm not Angus Swope! Now then, step over
there to port, and join your watch!"

"But, Captain--" commenced the desperate man again. Then he evidently
saw the futility of appealing to Captain Swope. Abruptly, he turned
and addressed the lady.

"Madam--my God, madam, can you not make him understand----"

The lady shook her head, frowned warningly, and spoke a soft, quick,
sentence. "No, no--do not protest, do as they say!" Well she knew the
futility of argument, and the danger to the one who argued. Indeed,
even while she spoke, the mate took the parson by his shirt collar, and
jerked him roughly into his place. And there he stood, by the
Cockney's side, wearing an air of bewildered dismay both comic and
tragic.

The mates renewed their choosing, and in a few more moments we were all
gathered in two groups, regarding each other across the empty deck.
There were fifteen men in the mate's watch, but, because of Newman's
absence, only fourteen had fallen to Lynch.

The Old Man handed down the articles to Mister Lynch. "All right,
Mister, muster them," he said. "And (addressing us generally) if you
don't recognize your names, answer anyway--or we'll baptize you anew!"

Lynch held the papers before his face. I thrilled with a sudden
expectancy. Something startling was going to happen, I felt it in my
bones. Some clairvoyant gleam told me the forepeak hatch was wide open
now.

"Answer to your names!" boomed Lynch's great voice. "A. Newman!"

"Here!" was the loud and instant response.

As one man, we swung our heads, and looked forward. Sauntering aft,
and just passing the main hatch, was the man with the scar.