ight."

"Jimmie, listen to me. Don't whisper a word of this. Do you hear?"

"I'm a clam."

"And don't go exploring in that end of the ship again. Captain Bothwell
would as soon wring your neck as a chicken's, my boy. Keep away from the
forecastle."

Immediately I joined Blythe on the bridge and told him what Jimmie had
discovered.

The captain nodded.

"That explains what was puzzling us. Bothwell has been too shrewd for
us. He must have arranged it to throw his men in our way when we were
selecting a crew. The scoundrel is laughing in his sleeve at us because
we're taking him and his men at our expense to the treasure."

"He's diddled us beautifully," I admitted with a sour grin.

"I grant him one round. The man is dangerous as a wild beast that has
escaped from its cage. But we're warned now. If he bests us it's our own
fault."

"It will be a finish fight, no surrender and no quarter."

My friend nodded, his jaw gripped tight.

"You've said it."

"We've one advantage. All of us will stand together. He can't hold his
riffraff long. They will quarrel among themselves. Every day that passes
works in our favor."

"Right enough, but Bothwell knows this as well as we do. He'll move
soon. We've forced his hand by discovering his presence. Now he can't
let us get into port because he knows we would get help against him."

"That's true."

"Unless I guess wrong we'll hear from him inside of twenty-four hours."

"Since it has to be, the sooner the better."

Blythe shrugged his broad, lean shoulders coolly.

"What must be must. As for Captain Bothwell, I don't think he'll have an
easy time of it. If he doesn't like the treatment he's going to get
he'll have nobody to blame but himself. Nobody asked him on board."

"We must lose no time in making preparations to meet an attack."

"You're right. Tell Mr. Mott I wish to see him. Have Yeager look our
weapons over and make sure that they are loaded. Tell him to guard the
armory until further notice. Better give Morgan a revolver at once and
slip Dugan one if you can."

The flinty resolution in his eye warmed my heart. Man for man, I was
ready to back Blythe against Bothwell.

The Scotch-Russian had more of the devil in him, a starker cruelty, a
more blazing passion, and perhaps greater cunning; but if I read the
Englishman aright there was in him that same quiet force which carried
Captain Scott to the south pole and afterward gave to the world that
immort