would be a
grand blow-up. For the mate was after Nils' belongings, his sea-chest.
Even though it was the custom to take a dead man's gear aft, the
squareheads resented the removal of Nils' effects. Especially did they
resent Fitzgibbon's part in the removal. The lads in my watch crowded
the door connecting the rooms, and the port watch men collected on deck
and glowered in at the proceedings.

The muttered curses grew in volume. Oh, it looked like trouble, right
enough---for just a moment. Now that I was enlightened as to the
skipper's game, I could see what the mate was up to. He, who was
largely responsible for Nils' death, had come forward upon this errand
because he knew--or Swope knew--his presence would enrage Nils' mates.
The Chinese steward, or the tradesmen alone, could have taken Nils'
gear without raising a murmur from the squareheads, but quite naturally
they would resent Fitzgibbon's pawing over the poor lad's treasures.

But Newman took the sting out of the mate's visit, Newman and Holy Joe,
working separately, but with a common end in view. Oh, it was
rich--but you must know the foc'sle mind to understand how rich we
thought it was. It was nothing subtle, nothing above our heads.
Newman made us laugh, at the mate's expense, and--presto!--impending
tragedy was turned into farce.

Fitzgibbon, himself, was overhauling Nils' gear. The tradesmen stood
idle and watchful, one near either door of the foc'sle. Out on deck,
Holy Joe was busy; we could hear him urging his crowd to be quiet and
peaceful. Newman pushed through our crowd until he was fairly into the
port foc'sle, and there he stood, filling the doorway, and effectually
blocking any attempt on the part of those behind him to rush the room.

Well, Newman looked down at the mate, and he commenced to chuckle very
softly to himself. After a moment we began to chuckle too, every
man-jack of us. We didn't laugh out loud--not one of us, except
Newman, who had the nerve to laugh out loud at Blackjack
Fitzgibbon--but, hidden behind the big fellow's back, we chuckled and
snickered readily enough. And the butt of the joke was the mate,
himself.

It was the mate's behavior. Anybody could see with half an eye that
the fellow was looking for trouble. He expected trouble, and it made
him nervous. He was determined he would be ready for it. So he kept
one hand in his coat pocket, where he carried his gun, and tried with
the other hand to cast a