und. "They savvied he'd
aimed to make suckers out of 'em, an' they dumped him. But they ain't on
our side, by a long sight. Not that I give a damn. If they want to sulk,
let 'em sulk. But they'll stand their watches, an', when we git to the
beach, they'll do their share of diggin'. If they need drivin', I'll
drive 'em.

"That Deming is a better man than I thought. He's the main grouch among
'em. Said if I hadn't had a gun he'd have tackled me in the cabin. Meant
it, too, though I'd have smashed him. He's sore becoz I said he warn't
my equal. I told him, enny time he wanted to try it out, I'd accommodate
him. He didn't take it up, an' they'll kid him about it. He'll pack a
grudge. I ain't afraid of their knifin' me, not while the skipper's
sick. They need me to navigate."

"This might be a good chance for me to handle a sextant," suggested
Rainey casually.

Lund shook his head, smiling, but his eyes hard.

"Not yet, matey," he said. "Not that I don't trust you, but for me to be
the only one, jest now, is a sort of life insurance that suits me to
carry. They might figger, if you was able to navigate, that they c'ud
put the screws on you to carry 'em through, with me out of the way. I
don't say they could, but they might make it hard for you, an' you ain't
got quite the same stake in this I have."

Here was cold logic, but Rainey saw the force of it. Hansen came up
early to split the watch and put their schedule right again, and Lund
went below with Rainey. Lund ordered Tamada to bring a bottle and
glasses, and they sat down at the table. Rainey needed the kick of a
drink, and took one.

As Lund was raising his glass with a toast of "Here's to luck," the
skipper's door opened and the girl appeared. She looked like a ghost.
Her hair was disheveled and her eyes stared at them without seeming
recognition. But she spoke, in a flat toneless voice.

"My father is dead! I--" she faltered, swayed, and seemed to swoon as
she sank toward the floor. Rainey darted forward, but Lund was quicker
and swooped her up in his arms as if she had been a feather, took her to
the table, set her in a chair, dabbled a napkin in some water and
applied it to her brows.

"Chafe her wrists," he ordered Rainey. "Undo that top button of her
blouse. That's enough; she ain't got on corsets. She'll come through.
Plumb worn out. That's all."

He handled her, deftly, as a nurse would a child. Rainey chafed the
slender wrists and beat her palms, a