to
sign. Carlsen would do that. Make 'em all feel it's more like a bizness
meetin'. They'll love to scrawl their names an' put down their marks.
I'll have to have you there to read it over to me; savvy?"

"What do you think Carlsen's game is, if it goes through?"

"He's fox enough to think up a dozen ways. Run the schooner ashore
somewhere in the night. Wreck her. Git 'em in the boats with the gold.
Inside of a week, Deming an' one or two others would have won it all.
Then--he'd have the only gun--he'd shoot the lot of 'em an' say they
died at sea. He ain't got enny more warm blood than a squid. Or he might
land, and accuse 'em all of piracy. What do we care about his plans? He
ain't goin' to put 'em over."

Rainey had to relieve Hansen. He left Lund primed for resistance against
Carlsen, against all the crew, if necessary, resolved to save the girl,
but, as Lund stayed below and the time slid by, his confidence oozed out
of him, and the odds assumed their mathematical proportion.

What could they do against so many? But he held firm in his
determination to do what he could, to go down with the forlorn hope,
fighting. Blind as he was, Lund was the better man of the two of them,
Rainey felt; it was better to attempt to seize the horns of the dilemma
than weakly to give way and, with Lund killed, or marooned, try
single-handed to protect Peggy Simms against the horrors that would come
later.

He did not believe himself in love with her. The environment had not
been conducive to that sort of thing. But the thought of her, their
hands clasped, her eyes appealing, saying she needed a friend aboard the
_Karluk_; the young clean beauty of her, nerved him to stand with Lund
against the odds. Lund was fighting for his rights, for his gold, but he
had said that he would not see a decent girl harmed as long as he could
wiggle. Rough sea-bully as the giant was, he had his code. Rainey
tingled with contempt of his own hesitancy.

The _Karluk_ was bowling along northward toward landfall and the crisis
between Lund and Carlsen at good speed. The weather had subsided and the
half gale now served the schooner instead of hindering her. Rainey
turned over the wheel to a seaman and paced the deck. The bite in the
air had increased until even the smart walk he maintained failed to
circulate the blood sufficiently to keep his fingers from becoming
benumbed, so that he had to beat his arms across his chest.

It was well below the free