grouped themselves together at his back and stood sullenly eying
the officers. Coulter and his two subordinates slipped their hands into
their pockets. It was a tense moment and a noiseless one. When the
captain broke silence his voice was cool, almost casual.

"Mr. Kirkenhead," he ordered the chief engineer, "take this man Hoak to
the stokehold, and keep him there until we reach port. Give him double
shift and if he makes a false move--kill him."

The giant made a passionate start forward, and found himself looking
down the barrel of Coulter's magazine pistol. From the glint of the
raised weapon he bounced backward against the rail, where he leaned
incoherently snarling like a cornered dog.

"Hi didn't sign as no blymed stoker," he growled at last. "Hi won't
go----"

"The stokehold or hell, it's up to you." Coulter's reply came in an
absolute monotony of voice strangely at variance with the passionate
stress of their labored breathing. Back of the tableau gleamed the
phosphorescence of the placid sea. "There's thirty seconds to decide.
Mr. Kirkenhead, look at your watch."

For a seeming eternity there was waiting and bated breath. We could hear
the muffled throb of the engines, and the churning of the screws.

Then Kirkenhead announced, "Twenty seconds, sir."

A moment more and Hoak turned, dropping his head in utter dejection and
shambled aft toward the engine-room companionway.

"Mr. Heffernan," came the captain's staccato orders, "instruct the
ship's carpenter to scuttle all the boats, except the port and starboard
ones on the bridge. If we are to have any little disagreements on board
we will settle them among ourselves. No one will leave in my boats
except by my orders. And"--he wheeled on the men--"whenever you vermin
feel inclined for trouble--start it."

So that incident passed and went to swell the cumulative poison of
festering hatred. We knew that the eruption had merely been delayed;
that it must inevitably come and that now its coming would be soon.
Between forward and aft war had been declared. Later that same evening I
made bold to remonstrate with Captain Coulter as to the order
concerning the boats. The conversation took place on the bridge--and it
was brief.

"Mr. Mansfield and myself," I said, "are passengers who have paid full
fares and we are entitled to full rights. We demand protection. This
hulk is rotten and unseaworthy. When you scuttle her boats you are
throwing the parachute out