in the crew who had
expressed a willingness to revolt was known by name to Cockney (and
without doubt to Yankee Swope) and these men now could not escape the
feeling that they were marked men. If anything had been needed to settle
the conviction of the foc'sle that mutiny was necessary, this unmasking
of Cockney supplied the need.

I felt this, rather than thought it out. It was in the air, so to speak.
At the moment, I was too much concerned for the little parson to reason
coolly. Oh, I reasoned about it a little while later, not coolly
perhaps, but certainly quickly, and leaped helter-skelter to a momentous
decision. But just then I thought about Holy Joe.

I wanted to get his arm set, and his body examined. I, myself, was not
competent to do either. The squarehead had spoken truth--it would be
madness to carry the man aft for treatment; and I judged Cockney had
spoken truly, too, when he said the lady was locked up. That agreed with
what I, myself, had heard, I appealed to the crowd.

"We've got to get Holy Joe fixed up. Any of you know anything about bone
setting? Who'll lend a hand?"

To my surprise, Boston volunteered. "I worked in a hospital once," he
said.

He set to work immediately in an efficient, businesslike manner. I was
astonished. His fingers were as deft--though not as gentle--as Newman's.
I thought, as I tore a blanket into strips, under his direction, how
characteristic it was of the fellow to let a hurt shipmate lie unattended
when he possessed the skill to help him. Aye, that was the sort of scut
Boston was!

"A clean break; no trick to set it," he announced, after examining the
arm. Nor was it. We cut up a bunkboard for splints, used the blanket
for bandages, and triced the injured member in short order. Boston was
deft, but he didn't try to spare his patient any pain; when he snapped
the ends of the bone together, Holy Joe came out of his swoon with a cry
of agony.

He half raised himself, and looked at us. "Let there be no trouble,
boys--for God's sake, no fighting!" he said. Then he fainted away again.

We undressed him, and Boston pronounced his ribs sound. Then we carried
him into the starboard foc'sle, and placed him in my bunk, which had a
comfortable mattress.

"Now you see what he got?" said Boston, wiping his hands on his greasy
pants. "And you see what you got. And you know what happened to Big
'Un. Well, how about it, Shreve? Do you stand with us?"