ob."

Rainey found Sandy in his bunk, asleep, trying to get one of the catnaps
by which he made up his lack of definitely assigned rest. The roustabout
woke with a shudder, flinching under Rainey's hand.

"They made me do it," he said in answer. "None of 'em 'ud touch it till
I had it sewed in an old staysail, an' a boatkedge tied on for weight. I
didn't go inter his pockets. I was scared to touch it more'n I had to."

"Is that the truth, Sandy? I don't care what you took besides this
little case and a bottle of tablets. You can keep the rest."

"It's the bloody truth, Mister Rainey, s'elp me," whined Sandy. And the
truth was in his shifty eyes.

Rainey went back with his news. He imagined that the five grains would
prove temporarily sufficient. And they could put in for Unalaska. There
were surgeons there with the revenue fleet. He thought there was
probably a hospital.

They would have to explain Carlsen's death. They would be asked about
the purpose of the voyage, the crew examined. It might mean detention,
the defeat of the expedition, the very thing that Lund had feared, the
following of them to the island. He wondered how Lund would take to the
plan.

He found that Tamada had administered the morphine. Already the
beneficial results were apparent. The dry, frightfully sallow skin had
changed and Simms was breathing freely while Tamada, feeling his pulse,
nodded affirmatively to the girl's questioning glance.

"Got it?" asked Lund.

Rainey gave the result of his search.

"We'll have to put in to Unalaska," he said. "There are doctors there."
The girl turned toward Lund. He smiled at the intensity of her gaze and
pose.

"I play fair, Miss Peggy," he said. "Rainey, change the course."

Peggy Simms seized Lund's great paw in both her hands, and, for the
first time, the tears overflowed her eyes. The _Karluk_ came about as
Rainey reached the deck and gave his orders. Then he returned to the
cabin. The captain had opened his eyes.

"Peggy!" he murmured. "Carlsen, where is he? Lund! Good God, Lund, you
can see?"

"Keep quiet as you can," said Tamada. Something in his voice made the
skipper shift his look to the Japanese.

"Where's Carlsen?" he asked again.

"He can't come now," said Tamada.

Under the urge of the drug the skipper's brain seemed abnormally clear,
his intuition heightened.

"Carlsen's dead?" he asked. Then, shifting to Lund. "You killed him,
Jim?"

Lund nodded.

"How much morphi