in a very serious situation.

"I'm waiting for the deputation," suggested Bothwell, his dark eye
passing from one to another and resting on Higgins.

The unfortunate cook began to perspire.

"Just our wye of 'aving a little joke, captain," he protested in a
whine.

"You didn't hear aright, Bothwell. A deputation to the captain was
mentioned," I told him.

"And I'm captain of this end of the ship, or was at last accounts.
Perhaps Mr. Sedgwick has been elected in my absence," he sneered.

"You bet he ain't," growled Gallagher.

"It's a position I should feel obliged to decline. No sinking ship for
me, thank you. I've no notion of trying to be a twentieth century
Captain Kidd. And, by the way, he was hanged, too, wasn't he, captain?"

"That's a prophecy, I take it. I'll guarantee one thing: You'll not live
to see it fulfilled. You've come to the end of the passage, my friend."

"Indeed!"

"But before you pass out I've a word to say to you about that map."

His eye gave a signal. Before I could stir for resistance even if I had
been so minded, George Fleming and Gallagher pinned my back to the
table. Bothwell stepped forward and looked down at me.

A second time I glimpsed the Slav behind his veneer of civilization.
Opaque and cruel eyes peered into mine through lids contracted to slits.
Something in me stronger than fear looked back at him steadily.

His voice was so low that none, I think, except me caught the words. In
his manner was an extraordinary bitterness.

"You're the rock I've split on from the first. You stole the map from
me--and you tried to steal her. By God, I wipe the slate clean now!"

"I've only one thing to say to you. I'd like to see you strung up, you
damned villain!" I replied.

"The last time I asked you for that map your friend from Arizona
blundered in. He's not here now. I'm going to find out all you know. You
think you can defy me. Before I've done with you I'll make you wish
you'd never been born. There are easy deaths and hard ones. You shall
take your choice."

With that fiend's eyes glittering into mine it was no easy thing to keep
from weakening. I confess it, the blood along my spine was beginning to
freeze. Fortunately I have a face well under control.

"You have a taste for dramatics, Captain Kidd." I raised my voice so
that all might hear plainly. "You threaten to torture me. You forget
that this is the year 1913. The inquisition is a memory. You are not in
Russia n