because the supercargo
suspected him, why should he not attempt to kill me after what I had said
about him to Captain Riggs?

I remembered that he had shown concern when I offered to tell Riggs about
him--he was ready to strike me down on the spot, and his plea that I
might attack him was made more for the purpose of having me put out of
reach of the captain than for his own protection. I was still a
passenger, even though confined to my room, and he knew that I might find
an opportunity to tell my story to Riggs.

At least I was safe for the night, and I knew nothing could be done in
the way of explaining things to Riggs before morning. I decided that I
would ask for paper and write a brief account of Meeker and Petrak for
him and let him judge for himself.

I blew out the lamp and opened the port, but hooked it so that the heavy
brass-rimmed glass acted as a shield for me as I lay in the upper berth.
I had no desire to have a pistol thrust through the port while I was
asleep, and after what had happened I was ready to see danger in
anything.

The steamer was well to sea, and there was a stiff breeze blowing, which
made her pitch and roll heavily. Her beams and joints groaned every time
she bucked into a sea, and the wash at her freeboard and the spray
breaking on the deck outside made a great racket. Her old engines jolted
and jarred and vibrated every inch of the _Kut Sang_, and I could hear
the whir of the propeller as it lifted out of the water when her head
plunged into a swell.

But although I tried to put everything out of my mind and get some
sleep, my imagination conjured up possible situations for the next
day conferences with Captain Riggs, fights with Meeker, a confession
forced from Petrak that he had lied when he charged me with complicity in
the murder.

I tumbled and tossed in my berth and counted a million sheep jumping a
fence, worked at the multiplication table, and resorted to other devices
to get into a doze, but every new creak, every groan of the straining
timbers, kept me wide awake.

One of the most irritating noises was the grating of some object hanging
on the bulkhead close to my head. I could not hear it when the vessel
pitched, but when she took a long roll to starboard it rattled a second
and then rasped along the board. Locating the sound in the dark, I groped
along the planks to find the loose object, and my fingers came upon a
small metal rod. I seized it and lifted it from a