so, he knew, over the whole ship. Everywhere,
the men were whispering.... There hung over the _Nathan Ross_ a cloud as
definite as a man's hand; and every man scowled--save Mark Shore. Mark
smiled with malicious delight at the gathering storm he had provoked....

Joel, left in the after cabin, felt terribly lonely. He wanted Priss with
him, laughing, at his side. His longing for her was like a hot coal in
his throat, burning there. And she had taken sides with Mark, against
him.... His shoulders shook with the sudden surge of his desire to grip
Mark's lean throat.... Ashore, he would have done so. But as things were,
the ship was his first charge; and a break with Mark would precipitate
the thing that menaced the ship.... He could not fight Mark without
risking the _Nathan Ross_; and he could not risk the _Nathan Ross_. Not
even.... His head dropped for an instant in his arms, and then he got up
quickly, and shook himself, and set his lips.... No man aboard must see
the trouble in his heart....

He went through the main cabin, and climbed to the deck. There was some
sea running, and a wind that brushed aside all smaller sounds, so that he
made little noise. Thus, when he reached the top of the companion, he saw
two dark figures in the shadows of the boat house, closely clasped....

He stood for an instant, white hot.... His wife, and Mark.... His little
Priss, and his brother....

Then he went quietly below, and glanced at the chart, and chose a course
upon it. The nearest land; he and Mark ashore together.... His blood ran
hungrily at the thought....

XI

Priscilla went on deck that night so angry with Joel that she could have
killed him; and Mark played upon her as a skilled hand plays upon the
harp. It was such a night as the South Seas know, warm and languorous,
the wind caressing, and the salt spray stinging gently on the cheek. The
moon was near the full, and it laid a path of silver on the water. This
path was like the road to fairyland; and Mark told Priscilla so. He
dropped into a gay little phantasy that he conceived on the moment, a
story of fairies, and of dancing in the moonlight, and of a man and a
woman, hand in hand....

She felt the spell he laid upon her, and struggled against it. "Tell me
about the last fight, when the little brown girl was killed," she begged.

He had told her snatches of his story here and there; but he had not,
till that night, spoken of the pearls. When Priss heard