rough-and-tumble
fighting, which had enabled me to protect the vital parts of my body.

"We'll have to get him aft, where the lady can attend to him--or else get
her for'ard," I declared.

"No chance," answered Boston.

"If we take him aft dey ban kill him," asserted one of the squareheads.

"She can't come for'ard; she's locked in her room," said another.

"How do you know that?" I cried.

"Cockney says so. He was there when the skipper locked her in," said
Boston.

For an instant I forgot Holy Joe, and his evil plight.

"What yarn did that Cockney bring for'ard with him?" I demanded.

"Why, he was there when they got the Big 'Un," answered Blackie. "He was
helpin' the steward break out a cask o' beef from the lazaret, when they
brought Big 'Un into the cabin, cuffed up, and with the drop on him. He
says the hen squawked, and the Old Man shut her in her room. Then they
kicked him out on deck, so he wouldn't see too much o' what was goin' on.
He says they put the Big 'Un down in the lazaret, and they're goin' to
croak him sure, and if we got any guts we'll go aft tonight and turn him
loose. That's what Cockney says."

Well, I let myself go, verbally. I said things about that Cockney, and I
was only sorry Cockney was not there to hear them. I knew most of the
hard words of three languages, and I used them all. Oh, it was a relief
to give even verbal release to the ocean of hate and rage in my soul! I
told the crowd what I thought of Cockney. Then I told them why. I told
them what had really happened in the cabin, what Cockney really was.

They believed me. They knew me; they knew I would not lie in such a
case, they could not help but sense the sincerity of my loathing. They
knew Cockney, also. They knew he was the sort to spy and perjure--a good
many of them were that sort themselves!--and as soon as I paused for
breath, this man and that began to recall certain suspicious acts of
Cockney he had noticed. Aye, they believed me, and the curses heaped on
Cockney's head were awful to the ear.

They had good reason to curse. My disclosure gave them a fresh fear.
Consternation was in their faces and voices, especially in the faces and
voices of the stiffs. I knew very well what frightened them. Cockney
had been most violent and outspoken among those advocating mutiny, far
more outspoken than the cautious Blackie or Boston, and the disaffected
had naturally confided in him. I knew that every man