ever they are. I am your friend."

The boatswain subsided growlingly. He was plainly suspicious--of what,
Martin could not guess. But it was evident that any mention of the
name of Ichi peppered his temper.

If Martin had been a cautious young man he would have let well enough
alone. The boatswain seemed a hasty and a heavy-fisted man. But
Martin's interest was more than piqued. Here seemed a chance to learn
something about that mysterious Japanese. This sailor appeared to know
him. Some light might even be thrown upon his errand to the Black
Cruiser. The papers in his inside pocket oppressed him with their
secret.

"Perhaps Little Billy is down on the waterfront," he remarked casually.
"He mentioned to me that he was going to look up a friend on the
Embarcadero--a fellow named Carew. Do you know Captain Carew? At a
place called the Black Cruiser?"

The boatswain received the remark in a most disconcerting manner. He
stiffened and stared at Martin, mouth agape, for an appreciable
instant. He seemed breathless. The semi-paralysis of drunkenness
seemed to flee his face.

"Carew! Did you say Carew?" he at last exclaimed. "Strike me, 'e says
Carew!"

It seemed that the boatswain had received some momentous morsel of
information difficult to digest. Suddenly he smote the bar with his
clenched fist. "Carew--'Wild Bob' Carew!" he cried. "And Wild Bob
Carew takes a 'and in this!"

This was progressing!

"Oh, so you know Captain Carew?" prompted Martin.

The boatswain turned. He regarded Martin strangely. His face was set
and stern. He seemed a man for whom the moment of badinage is past and
the moment of action is come.

"You talk of Ichi, and then you talk of Wild Bob Carew!" he said to
Martin. "Swiggle me stiff, young man, you _are_ one o' them!"

His great hands reached toward Martin. There was annihilation in his
eye. His attitude was a sudden and complete declaration of war.

Martin did not await that onslaught. He started for the door. Fortune
favored him--uncounted potations, perhaps, had rendered the boatswain a
bit unsteady on his pins, and, as he left the support of the bar rail
and lurched for his victim, he lost his balance. He sat down on the
floor with a crash that shook the building.

The boatswain swore, Johnny Feiglebaum emitted a wail as three glasses
bounced off their rack, and Martin kept on going. As he passed through
the door, the boatswain was scrambling agile