as I told you before," was Leach's answer; and
thereat he was on his feet and raging his disappointment with tears in
his eyes.

"And not one of you to get a knife!" was his unceasing lament.

But the rest of the hands had a lively fear of consequences to come and
gave no heed to him.

"How'll he know which was which?" Kelly asked, and as he went on he
looked murderously about him--"unless one of us peaches."

"He'll know as soon as ever he claps eyes on us," Parsons replied. "One
look at you'd be enough."

"Tell him the deck flopped up and gouged yer teeth out iv yer jaw," Louis
grinned. He was the only man who was not out of his bunk, and he was
jubilant in that he possessed no bruises to advertise that he had had a
hand in the night's work. "Just wait till he gets a glimpse iv yer mugs
to-morrow, the gang iv ye," he chuckled.

"We'll say we thought it was the mate," said one. And another, "I know
what I'll say--that I heered a row, jumped out of my bunk, got a jolly
good crack on the jaw for my pains, and sailed in myself. Couldn't tell
who or what it was in the dark and just hit out."

"An' 'twas me you hit, of course," Kelly seconded, his face brightening
for the moment.

Leach and Johnson took no part in the discussion, and it was plain to see
that their mates looked upon them as men for whom the worst was
inevitable, who were beyond hope and already dead. Leach stood their
fears and reproaches for some time. Then he broke out:

"You make me tired! A nice lot of gazabas you are! If you talked less
with yer mouth and did something with yer hands, he'd a-ben done with by
now. Why couldn't one of you, just one of you, get me a knife when I
sung out? You make me sick! A-beefin' and bellerin' 'round, as though
he'd kill you when he gets you! You know damn well he wont. Can't
afford to. No shipping masters or beach-combers over here, and he wants
yer in his business, and he wants yer bad. Who's to pull or steer or
sail ship if he loses yer? It's me and Johnson have to face the music.
Get into yer bunks, now, and shut yer faces; I want to get some sleep."

"That's all right all right," Parsons spoke up. "Mebbe he won't do for
us, but mark my words, hell 'll be an ice-box to this ship from now on."

All the while I had been apprehensive concerning my own predicament.
What would happen to me when these men discovered my presence? I could
never fight my way out as Wolf Larsen had done. And at