t--" broke in Newman.

I thought Cockney would flop at the big fellow's feet this time. But
he recovered quickly enough when Newman turned away, without further
words, and without offering to thump him. He slouched forward, and
immediately became the hero of the hour with the gang. Aye; I was even
a bit envious. It took a hard case to heave a knife at a bucko--even
at his back.

"But why didn't he shoot Cockney?" I asked Newman. "Didn't he see him?"

The big man glanced at Holy Joe, and smiled. "Perhaps he didn't want
to see him," he replied.

And I was so thick-headed I didn't understand. But it really was a
peaceful day. After Nils' chest went aft, we might have been a
comfortable family ship so little were we troubled by the afterguard.
Lynch, of course, kept his watch busy while it was on deck, but he
didn't haze; and Fitzgibbon all but forgot he had a watch. It was a
queer rest. It got upon my nerves, this waiting for something--I
didn't know what--to happen.

It carried over into the night, this unusual quiet. Aye, Captain Swope
kept the deck that night in the first watch, as well as Fitzgibbon, and
not a single man was damned or thumped. When we turned out for the
middle watch, we found the port watch lads crowing that they had farmed
away their hours on deck.

Well, we didn't farm, by a long shot. Trust Lynch to keep hands busy.
It was rule number one with him. He sweated us up in the usual style,
yet his manner was milder than usual and he didn't lay a finger on even
the most lubberly of the stiffs. Aye, for the first time during the
voyage--perhaps for the first time in the life of the ship--a full day
passed in the _Golden Bough_ and not a man felt the weight of a boot or
a fist. It was an occasion, I can tell you!

Yet, for all of the afterguard's surprising gentleness, that mid-watch
was a nightmare to me. Newman disappeared.

Ever since the night at the beginning of the voyage when Captain Swope
tried to snap us off the yardarm, I made it a practice to stick close
to the big fellow during the night watches. I owed him my life, and,
anyway I was eager to give him the service of a friend, of a mate. I
was always dreading that Swope would try again some dark night, and
with better success. It is so easy to do things in the dark, you see;
get a man separated from the watch, beyond the reach of friendly eyes,
give him a crack on the head and a boost over the rail, and then what
pro