halyard."

But Petrak did not move. He knew something was wrong; but whether it was
Thirkle he feared, or what Thirkle seemed afraid of, I did not know. I
thought he suspected treachery.

"What's wrong, Thirkle?" he demanded.

"Come on up here, can't ye?"

"What ye want, Thirkle? No funny business for me. Speak out what ye want.
Ye ain't goin' to do me dirt, be ye, Thirkle--not Reddy?"

He was whining now, and he was in terror of Thirkle.

"Oh, shut up!" growled Thirkle. "It's nothing, but it give me a turn."

"What was it, Thirkle? What frightened ye?"

"I thought I put my hand into a mess of hair and--"

"Oh, ho!" laughed Petrak. "That's a ball of spun yarn Bucky left. It's
naught but spun yarn, Thirkle. I minded it myself," and Petrak turned
to the block again.

Thirkle moved toward the boat, saying something about how he was getting
old and nervous, and I saw him bend over the gunwale. I watched him
closely, for a hope had sprung up in my withered heart--a hope which I
hardly dared tell myself might possibly be true, after the train of
disasters which had overtaken me since I went aboard the _Kut Sang_.

I saw a form spurt up out of the boat, and, as it arose, like the
fountain that pops out of the sea after a shell strikes, there came a
heavy blow and a deep-throated grunt, followed by a hiss that was
merged with a shrill death-cry.

"Black devil! Black devil!" said Thirkle in a quiet, matter-of-fact way,
and then he began to sob and squirm; but the figure that had come up like
a jack-in-the-box held him pinned across the gunwale, with his shoulders
and arms inside the boat, and his legs writhing and thrashing in the dead
palm-leaves.

"What's wrong, Thirkle? What's wrong?" wailed Petrak.

He stood a second waiting for an answer, and then he started for the
boat, but stopped at the edge of the shadows.

"What's wrong, Thirkle? Sing out, can't ye? What's gone amiss?"

Thirkle's legs were quiet now, but I could hear his heavy breathing, and
it reminded me of the steam exhaust from an ice-factory.

In spite of the mystery about me, I set my brain to work trying to
remember what particular ice-factory sounded just like Thirkle's
breathing.

"I'll hold him, Rajah," said Captain Riggs. "Go get the other," and the
figure of the Malay boy sprang from the boat and leaped toward Petrak.
The little red-headed man gave an incoherent gurgle, and he took to his
heels down the beach. Rajah let him go, and ra