d stopped our reading, the two of us
were lying flat on our backs--and silent--in the enveloping shadows of
the forward deck near the capstan. A group of men who were off watch had
gathered near us, seeking the gratefulness of the uninterrupted breeze.
With no suspicion of our proximity, they fell into a low-pitched but
violent conference.

Hoak held the floor as spokesman, and his deep whispering voice was raw
with bitterness.

"We hain't no bloomin' galley-slyves," he growled. "Blyme me, I say,
let's make a hend o' the 'ole bloody mess once and for hall."

"How?" came the natural question from one of the more conservative.

"'Ow?" retorted the ringleader, "W'at's the odds 'ow? Any way will do.
Rush the cabin. There's a stand of rifles at the for'ard bulkhead. Kill
hoff the bloody lot of hofficers. Navigate the bloomin' ole 'ooker back
ourselves and report whatever damn thing we like."

"How about these passengers? They'd snitch," suggested the same
questioner.

"Aw no," sarcastically assured Hoak, "they won't snitch. They won't 'ave
no more charnce to snitch than Coulter 'isself--damn 'im."

For a moment I felt a steaming throb in my throat. Then came a new
sensation, something like relief that at last the clear outline was
looming through the fog of maddening uncertainty. It did not seem to
matter so much what the certainty was, so long as it brought an end to
the suspense. There was some discussion in hushed voices. Caution had
its advocates who opposed so desperate a course.

"Think it hover till to-morrow," said Hoak at last. "But hif you don't
stand by me Hi'm going to cut loose a boat and tyke to the water. To
'ell with the _Wastrel_ an' her rotter of a captain."

There was a sudden hush followed by a sort of low chorused groan. Around
the superstructure of the forward cabin appeared Captain Coulter, his
first officer and the chief engineer. For an instant they stood
silently, flashing electric torches into the terrified faces of the
conspirators who, like schoolboys caught denouncing their teacher,
shuffled their feet and remained speechless.

Hoak, alone, took a step forward. His face was working spasmodically in
the bull's-eye glare which exaggerated the high lights on his snarling
teeth and the black shadows of his scowl. He wavered for an instant
between his personal dread of Coulter, and the knowledge that, with so
much already known, caution was futile. While he hesitated the other men
tacitly