find matches
in the lamp-locker, and staggered there to search. He had to grope
in gross darkness about the place, touching brass and the uncanny
smoothness of glass, before his hand fell on what he sought. At last
he was on one knee by the mate's side, and a match shed its little
illumination. The mate's face was odd in its quietude, and the sou'-
wester of oilskin was still on his head, held there by the string
under the chin. From under its edge blood flowed steadily, thickly,
appallingly.

"But----" cried Conroy. The match-flame stung his fingers and he
dropped it. "Oh Lord!" he said. It occurred to him then, for the
first time, that the mate was dead.

The men aft, bunched up under the break of the poop, were aware of
him as a figure that came sliding and tottering toward them and fell
sprawling at the foot of the poop ladder. He floundered up and
clutched the nearest of them, the Greek.

"The mate's dead," he broke out, in a kind of breathless squeal.
"Somebody call the captain; the mate's dead."

There was a moment of silence; then a cackle of words from several of
them together. The Greek's hands on his shoulders tightened. He heard
the man's purring voice in his ear.

"How did you do it?"

Conroy thrust himself loose; the skies of his mind were split by a
frightful lightning flash of understanding. He had been alone with
the mate; he had seen him die; he was sworn to kill him. He could see
the livid smile of the Greek bent upon him.

"I didn't do it," he choked passionately, and struck with a wild,
feeble hand at the smile. "You liar--I didn't do it."

"Hush!" The Greek caught him again and held him.

Some of the men had started forward; others had slipped into the
alleyway to rouse the second mate and captain. The Greek had him
clutched to his bosom in a strong embrace and was hushing him as one
might hush a scared child. Slade was at his side.

"He slipped, I tell you; he slipped at the top of the ladder. She'd
shipped a dollop of water and then rolled, and over he went. I heard
his head go smack and went down to him. I never touched him. I swear
it--I never touched him."

"Hush!" It was Slade this time. "And yer sure he's dead. Well----"
the old man exchanged nods with the Greek. "All right. Only--don't
tell the captain that tale; it ain't good enough."

"But----" began Conroy. A hug that crushed his face against the
Greek's oilskin breast silenced him.

"Vat is all dis?"

It was the cap