intolerable. In vain the men protested,
and begged for air. Their requests were all denied. The captain trusted
no man. He treated them as if they were hounds. Wainwright stood by the
captain's side, smoking the inevitable cigarette, his eyes narrowly
watching Cameron, when the order was given; but no onlooker could have
told from Cameron's well trained face whether he had heard or not. Well
he knew where those orders had originated, and instantly he saw a series
of like torments. Wainwright had things in his own hands for this voyage.
Wurtz was his devoted slave. For Wainwright had money, and used it freely
with his captain, and Wainwright well knew how to think up tortures. It
was really the only thing in which he was clever. And here again was an
instance of practice making perfect, for Wainwright had done little else
since his kindergarten days than to think up trials for those who would
not bow to his peevish will. He seemed to be gifted in finding out
exactly what would be the finest kind of torture for any given soul who
happened to be his victim. He had the mind of Nero and the spirit of a
mean little beast. The wonder, the great miracle was, that he had not in
some way discovered that Ruth had been visiting the camp, and taken his
revenge before she left. This was the first thought that came to Cameron
when he found himself shut into the murky atmosphere. The next thought
was that perhaps he had discovered it and this was the result. He felt
himself the Jonah for the company, and as the dreadful hours went by
would fain have cast himself into the sea if there had been a possible
way of escape.

It was not an American transport on which they were sailing, and the
captain was not responsible for the food, but he might have refused to
allow such meals to be served to his men if he had cared. He did not
care, that was the whole trouble. He ate and drank, principally drank,
and did whatever Wainwright suggested. When a protest came up to him he
turned it down with a laugh, and said: "Oh, that's good enough for a buck
private," and went on with his dirty jokes.

The supper that first night was abominable, some unpleasant kind of meat
cooked with cabbage, and though they tried to eat it, many of them could
not keep it down. The ship rolled and the men grew sick. The atmosphere
became fetid. Each moment seemed more impossible than the last. There was
no room to move, neither could one get out and away. After supper the