ons, finished you. You see,
Roy--neatness and thoroughness!

"I took Stord to sea with me, as my steward. But, unfortunately, he
went over the side one dark night, off the Horn. A loose end tucked
in, eh, Roy?

"And I'll tuck in other loose ends between now and dawn--you, for
instance, and our brave Mister Lynch. I have it already written down
for Fitz to copy into the logbook. 'During the fighting, James Lynch,
second mate, was stabbed by one of the mutineers; but owing to the
darkness and confusion his assailant was not recognized.' That's how
the log will read when we bowse into port. And--'During the fighting,
the sailor, Newman, attempted to escape from custody, and was shot by
the captain.' You see, Roy, everything shipshape! A line for each in
the log--and two loose ends tucked in--eliminated!

"You will have some time in which to think it over, before it happens,
Roy. You should thank me for that--for giving you something to think
about. It will take your mind off your pain, eh? Yes, you need
something to think about, for you'll hang there for four or five hours
yet. No danger of your sleeping, eh, Roy? Well, keep your ears open
and you'll be forewarned. There'll be some shooting on deck. I've
gone to a great deal of trouble to bring it about; your shipmates are a
gutless crew, Roy, and I had begun to think I could not get a fight out
of them. But the swabs are coming aft at the end of the mid-watch.
Eight bells in the mid-watch--count the bells, Roy. Eight
bells--elimination!

"Then there will be just one loose end left--and you know what I have
planned for her! Think about it, Roy--think about our darling little
Mary! At the mercy of the wolves, Roy! At the mercy of our dear,
gentle Fitzgibbon! At the mercy--yes, I do believe at the mercy, also,
of my new second mate.

"Oh, yes, he is already nominated for the office. Of course, he must
first remove the incumbent--but that, as I explained, is arranged for.
He is a greasy cockney, gutter-snipe--but useful. I wouldn't think of
having him at table with me, Roy--but I think I'll let him amuse
himself with Mary--after Fitz! Ah, that stings, eh, Roy!"

It did, indeed. Newman lifted the face of a madman to his torturer.
Aye, the creature's vile words, and viler threat, had stung him beyond
his power of self-control. All the pent-up fury in his soul burst
forth in one explosive oath.

"God blast you forever, Angus!" he cried.

Jus