you've got Mr. Ditty to help you out," said the captain.

"That's another queer thing, sir," continued the second officer,
evidently reluctant to speak against his superior. "Mr. Ditty is
usually quicker with his fists than he is with his tongue; but I never
saw him like he is on this voyage. Seems like at times as though he
took the men's part, sir."

"That's a hard saying, Mr. Rogers," said the captain.

"True enough, sir; but you told me to speak out. I had trouble with
some of the men this very afternoon, sir, when I went over to the
island. They found the water tasted of sulphur, and some of 'em
started in saying that the devil wasn't very far off when you could
taste brimstone so plain. Of course, sailors are superstitious, and I
wouldn't have thought anything of that, only it seemed as if the bad
ones were just making that an excuse to get the others sore and
discontented. They were growling and muttering amongst themselves all
the time they were ashore.

"I've got it off my chest now, sir, and maybe you'll think it's
foolish, but I thought you ought to know. There's something going on
that I can't understand, and it bothers me."

"You've done quite right to tell me what you have, Mr. Rogers," replied
the captain, "and I'm obliged to you. I'll think it over. In the
meantime, keep your eyes wide open and let me know at once if anything
comes to light. By the way, did you ever find anybody who saw what
happened to Mr. Parmalee?"

"Not a man among 'em will own to having seen anything. It was a dark
night," replied Mr. Rogers, touching his cap and turning away.

Captain Hamilton sought out Tyke immediately and related to him what
Rogers had said.

"How many men that you know you can depend on have you got in your
crew?" asked Tyke quickly.

"Not more than a dozen that I'm sure of," admitted Captain Hamilton.
"That many've sailed with me on a number of voyages and they came home
with me from Hong Kong. They are as good men as ever hauled on a
sheet. But even some of them may have been affected by whatever it is
that's brewing. It takes only a few rotten apples to spoil a barrel,
you know."

"A dozen," mused Tyke reflectively. "Those, with you and Allen and me
would make fifteen."

"Don't forget Rogers," put in Hamilton.

"Sixteen," corrected Tyke. "That leaves only eighteen, if Ditty's got
'em all. Counting himself, that's nineteen. Sixteen against nineteen.
Considering the kind of m