called
each other--the only names I ever knew them by--"Boston," for the blond
fellow with the bridge of his nose flattened, and "Blackie" for the
other, a chap as swarthy as a dago, with long, oily black hair, and
eyes too close together.

Even as I watched, they seemed to arrive at some decision in their
whispered conversation. Blackie got up from the bench and crossed over
to Newman's bunk. The latter was lying with his face to the wall.
Blackie placed his hand upon Newman's shoulder, leaned over, and
whispered into his ear.

I saw Newman straighten out his long body. For an instant he lay
tense, then he slowly turned his head and faced the man who leaned over
him. On his face was the same expression of deadly menace he had shown
the Cockney, back in the Swede's barroom.

Blackie could not withstand that deadly gaze. He backed hurriedly
away, and sat down beside his mate. Then Newman spoke in low, measured
tones, and at the first word the babel of noise stopped in the foc'sle,
and all hands watched his lips with bated breath.

"I play a lone hand," he addressed the pair. "You will keep your
mouths shut, and work, and play none of your deviltries in this ship
unless I give the word. Otherwise--" The great scar on his forehead
was blue and twitching, and his voice was deadly earnest. He did a
thing so expressive it made me shudder. He lifted his hand, and
carelessly placed his forefinger on the outer side of his bunk, and
when he lifted it, two of the myriad cockroaches that infested the
foc'sle were mashed fiat on the board.

Blackie's face set sullenly, and the angry blood darkened his cheeks.
Boston wriggled uneasily on his seat, and cleared his throat as though
about to speak. But, at the instant, Lynch's booming voice came into
the foc'sle, calling the watch on deck, and putting an abrupt end to
the scene.

There was an immediate scramble for the exit to the deck. Aye, the
mates had put the fear of the Lord--and themselves--into us, and we
were all eager to show how willing we were! But I heard Fitzgibbon
without, as well as Lynch, and, from the gossip I had heard at the
Swede's, I suspected the foc'sle was about to be introduced to the
orthodox hell-ship manner of turning to the watch. Both mates would
meet us coming up, and the first man on deck would get a clout for not
being sooner, and the last man a boot for being a laggard.

So I held back, and allowed another the honor of being fir