u, Mister Lynch--if you will escort
this mutinous scoundrel below to the cabin, I'll see that this affair
is properly entered in the logbook, and then we will put him in a place
where he cannot work further mischief. Connolly, you and your mate may
go for'ard."

A moment later I was alone on the poop. So quickly and quietly had the
affair been managed that none of the watch on deck seemed to be aware
of it. They were busied about the fore part of the ship at the various
jobs Lynch had set them to. But the tradesmen of the watch were not in
sight, and I had no doubt they were forewarned, and had joined the port
watch tradesmen before the cabin, to guard against any possible trouble.

I wondered what to do. Do something, I felt I must. If I sang out and
informed the watch, the afterguard would reach me and squelch my voice
long before my mates could lay aft. And indeed, laying aft in a body
was what the crew must not do. That would be trouble, mutiny perhaps,
and Newman's injunction was to keep the peace.

I could do nothing to help my friend. But I felt I must do something.
The cabin skylights were open, for it was tropic weather, and a murmur
of voices ascended through the opening. I could not distinguish words,
but I felt I must know what they were saying to Newman, or about him.
So I took a chance. I slipped the wheel into the becket, and crept to
the edge of the skylights.

I could peek into only a narrow section of the saloon, for I did not
dare shove my face into the opening. They would have seen me. But I
could hear every voice, every word, and my ears gave me an accurate
picture of the scene below.

The first voice I heard was the voice of one of my foc'sle mates, and
he was giving testimony against Newman.

"'E was in the syl-locker mykin' hup to 'er," the speaker said, "an'
tellin' as 'ow 'e'd lead the crew arft, and kill the hofficers, and
tyke charge 'imself. That's wot 'e says, s' 'elp me!"

"Ah, yes, he was making up to her, eh? And plotting mutiny? And my
wife lent herself to such a scheme, did she?" This came in Swope's
voice, soft, purring, the very tone an insult. "So my wife was in the
sail-locker with this convict, and he was making up to her? Well,
well!"

"You know that creature is lying, Angus!" broke in another voice. Aye,
and I very nearly gave myself away by craning my head to see the
speaker. For this was the lady's voice, hot with anger and resentment
and loathin