"Huh!" said Boyle, strolling towards them. "What is it? A bet?"

"Yes," laughed Courtenay, from whose face all doubt had vanished; "a
bet, indeed, and you hold the stakes. Have you seen the smoke signal
yonder?" and he pointed across the bay.

"Yes. Tollemache found it again, twenty minutes since."

"It means that eleven of our men are there, expecting us to save them.
Hoist the ship's answering pennant from the main yard swung out to
starboard. Build a small fire on the poop and throw some oil and
lampblack on it. If they don't recognize the pennant they will
understand the smoke. Get some food and water stowed in the life-boat,
and offer five pounds a head to six men who will volunteer for a trip
ashore."

"I go in charge, of course, sir?" said Boyle.

"You remain here, and take command during my absence. I want two
revolvers for a couple of the crew, and I shall take my own gun.
Please make all arrangements promptly. I am going to my cabin for five
minutes, and shall start immediately afterwards."

This was the captain speaking. His tone admitted of no contention.
Boyle hurried off, and Courtenay went into his quarters.

"What do you think of it?" Christobal asked Tollemache, as the latter
appeared to be sauntering after the chief officer.

"Rot!" said Tollemache.

"But what can we do? He is committing suicide."

"One must do that occasionally. It's rotten, but it can't be helped."

Christobal threw out his hands in a despairing gesture. "I tried to
stop him, but I failed," he cried.

"Courtenay is a hard man to stop," said Tollemache, vanishing down the
companion. The Spaniard was left alone on the bridge. He paced to and
fro, deep in thought. He scarce dared probe his own communings. So
complex were they, such a queer amalgam of noble fear and base
expectation, that he could have cried aloud in his anguish. Big drops
of perspiration stood on his forehead when Courtenay came to him.

"For God's sake, don't go," said he hoarsely. "Do you know you are
placing me on the rack?"

"Your sufferings are of your own contriving, then. Why, man, there is
no reason for all this agony. I have written to Elsie, briefly
explaining matters. Here is the letter. Give it to her, if I don't
return. And now, pull yourself together. I want you to cheer her.
Above all things, don't let her know I am leaving the ship. I'll just
swing myself overboard at the last moment. I can't say good-by. I
d