"
Without looking at me, he drew it from his hip pocket and held it
out. I took it: It was loaded.
"It's out of order," he said briefly. "If it had been working
right, I wouldn't be here."
I reached down and touched his wrist. His pulse was slow and rather
faint, his hands cold.
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Yes," he snarled. "You can get me a belaying-pin and let me at
those fools over there. Turner did this, and you know it as well
as I do!"
I slid his revolver into my pocket, and went back to the men.
Counting Williams and the cook and myself, there were nine of us.
The cook I counted out, ordering him to go to the galley and
prepare breakfast. The eight that were left I divided into two
watches, Burns taking one and I the other. On Burns's watch were
Clarke, McNamara, and Williams; on mine, Oleson, Adams, and Charlie
Jones.
It was two bells, or five o'clock. Burns struck the gong sharply
as an indication that order, of a sort, had been restored. The
rising sun was gleaming on the sails; the gray surface of the sea
was ruffling under the morning breeze. From the galley a thin
stream of smoke was rising. Some of the horror of the night went
with the darkness, but the thought of what waited in the cabin
below was on us all.
I suggested another attempt to rouse Mr.
Pages:
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71