in laved himself in the basin, spruced himself before the
little glass, and let himself out of the room.

Martin stepped into the ship's cabin. He knew it was the cabin,
because he had often read passages descriptive of just such a room.

There were several doors on either side. They led to the berths.
There was the curve of the ship's stern in the after wall, portholes,
and a divan which followed the half-round. Chairs, a large table,
swinging lamps, a skylight overhead. There was the companion ladder,
leading to the deck above.

He made for the ladder. At its base he stopped. Some one was
descending. A hale, white-bearded, rosy-cheeked old man came down from
the deck. He had a serene and smiling countenance.

Martin waited expectantly, with half-extended hand. This must be the
"Old Man" of the hunchback's reference. But the old man's wide-open
eyes stared over his head, or through him. He walked past within a
foot of Martin and gave not the least indication that he noticed
Martin's presence. A second later he disappeared through a door on the
farther side of the room.

Martin's hand dropped to his side. He was nonplused and somewhat
piqued. It was unbelievable that he had been unseen. Why, the man had
passed within touching distance and had looked straight at him! If
this were the captain of the jolly brig...

However, just now he was eager to reach outdoors. He mounted the
ladder and found himself in a box-like hatch. He thrust aside a canvas
flap and stepped out on deck.

A blast of cold wind slapped his face and almost took his breath for a
moment. He was facing aft, looking out over the stern of the ship, and
his eyes beheld a tumbling chaos, a fearsome waste of leaping waters.

In the foreground of this picture, just across the skylight from him,
stood the man at the wheel. He was an integrant feature of that wild
scene, felt Martin. In Heaven's name, what manner of outlander was he?
Squat and bulky in oilskins, broad-faced, high-cheeked, brown-colored,
his forehead was tattooed, and ridges of horrible scars disfigured both
plump cheeks. His eyes were small, feral; he gave Martin a fleeting,
incurious glance, and turned his attention to his work. He stood
impassive, clutching the wheel-spokes.

The deck was wet and slippery. The ship lunged down the slope of a
sea, and Martin slid to leeward. He fought his way up-deck again and
grasped the side of the hatch for support. The m