yelids, and looked
into my eye. Then he tilted the bottle he still carried, and wetted
his laps with the liquor. "That . . . Swede! He drugged this bottle!
Bound to get the blood money for you!"

I didn't answer. I couldn't, for while Newman was speaking, a
wonderful thing happened. He suddenly dwindled in size until he was no
larger than a manikin, going through the motion of drinking from a tiny
bottle; while in contrast, his voice increased so tremendously in
volume it broke upon my ears like a surf upon a beach. I couldn't
grasp the miracle.

". . . well, not enough to hurt . . . all right tomorrow . . ." Newman
boomed. Then he picked me up in his arms and deposited me in a bunk.
He got a blanket out of my bag and spread it over me. I found
something very comical about this, though I couldn't laugh as I wished.
One hard case tucking in another hard case, like a mother tucks in her
child!

The last thing I saw, or thought I saw, ere oblivion overcrept me, was
Newman's manikin-sized figure stretching out in a manikin-sized bunk
opposite.

CHAPTER V

My head ached, my tongue was thick and wood-tastey, but I awoke in full
possession of my faculties. Even in the brief instant between the
awakening and the eye-opening, I sensed what was about.

The motion told me the ship was under way. The noises that had
probably aroused me, boomed commands, stormed curses, groans, sounds of
blows, feet stamping--all told me that the mates were turning to the
crew. I sat up and looked around.

It had been dark night, and the foc'sle empty, when Newman had tucked
me in for my drugged siesta. Now it was broad day, and a bright streak
of sunlight streaming into the dirty hole through the open door showed
men's forms sprawled in the bunks about me.

The _Golden Bough_ had a topgallant foc'sle, the port and starboard
sides divided by a partition that reached not quite to the deck above,
and which contained a connecting door. Newman and I had stumbled into
the port foc'sle the previous night, and as I sat up, I discovered that
the babel of sound came from the starboard side of the partition. I
swung up into the bunk above my head, raised my eyes above the
partition, and looked down.

I saw Mister Lynch, the second mate, standing in the middle of the
starboard foc'sle's floor. He was turning to the crew with a
vengeance. His method was simple, effective, but rather ungentle. His
long arm would dart into a b