man. "I gladly give up my revenge for
your sake, little love. But I intend to protect you, and myself--that,
too, is my promise."

"Here comes Fitz now," said Sails.

It was touch-and-go with discovery a second time as Mister Fitzgibbon
stamped down the ladder. But he was already bawling for the watch, and
had his eyes fixed straight ahead; and immediately he went forward with
the tradesmen at his heels.

I waited until the mate's bellow sounded well forward, and I was sure
my retreat would be unobserved. Then I placed my lips to the opening
in the sail-locker door and called softly, "Newman! Come out of that
at once; you are spied upon!"

I heard the lady gasp, and knew my message was received and understood.
I waited for no other response. I scuttled away from that perilous
spot as fast as caution permitted my legs to travel. Jack Shreve was
no Newman; I had not his cool nerve when it came to flouting hell-ship
rules. In truth, I was in a blue funk all the time I was aft, for fear
I would be discovered. And there was another reason for my haste in
getting forward. There was a sudden uproar in front of the foc'sle
that bade fair to carry through the ship.

There was trouble in the air; I could sniff it as I ran. Although time
enough had elapsed since the mate sang out his order to man the braces,
the watch was not yet at the rail; and this was a strange thing in a
ship where men literally flew about their work. The trouble was in the
port foc'sle; I could see the crowd bunched on the deck before the
door, and Mister Fitzgibbon's voice had risen to a shrill, obscene
scream as he poured blistering curses upon some luckless head.

I dodged across the deck and around the starboard side of the deck
house, and thus came upon the scene in a casual manner, as though I had
just stepped out of my own foc'sle to see what was wrong. I mingled
with my watch mates, who had turned out to a man to watch the row.

Over on the port side of the deck a royal shindy seemed to be
preparing. Aye, the mate had at last struck fire from his squareheads!
They were on the verge of open rebellion. The stiffs of the port watch
had fallen to one side, and stood quaking and irresolute, but the
squareheads, all of them, were bunched squarely between the mate and
the foc'sle door, and to the mate's stream of curses they interposed a
wall of their own oaths. Mister Fitzgibbon had his right hand in his
coat pocket, and all hands k