out lighted dimly a small
patch of the pervading, foggy murk, he encountered Sails.

MacLean was standing in the light, bitterly recounting his troubles to
the cheerfully grinning Charley Bo Yip. Martin paused, and was
promptly aware that Sails had transferred his flow of words to the
newcomer, as being a better audience than the unresponsive Chinaman.

Martin gathered that Sails was to stand the middle watch, and that he
was aggrieved that the best blood of Scotland had been bested in a game
of chance by a blanked squarehead ship's carpenter, who had, it seemed,
won the right to stand the earlier watch. And, in any case, it was
sacrilege to violate the night's rest of a MacLean. And a sailmaker
was a dash-blanked tradesman and should never be blankety well asked to
stand a watch under any dashed circumstances! So quoth Sails.

Martin commiserated with the other.

"You'll be on watch with me, Sails," he concluded. "I have the two to
four. Little Billy has the earlier half of the watch."

"Little Billy!" echoed Sails. "Did ye say Little Billy, lad?" His
belligerent voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "_Och_, lad--Little
Billy?"

"Why, yes. What is wrong with that?" answered Martin.

Suddenly Sails raised an arm and shook a clenched fist at the mountain
that brooded invisible behind the fog curtain.

"_Och_, ye black de'il's kirk!" he declaimed. "Ye blood-sucker! The
MacLean's curse on ye!"

He stood in relief against the muddy background, his features dimly
lighted by the ray from the galley lamp, wisps of fog eddying about his
gray head and beard, his features wild and passion-working. And he
cursed the Fire Mountain. It was unreal, unearthly, a scene from
another age. But Martin felt a superstitious thrill.

"Great Scott! What is the matter?" he cried, startled.

MacLean lowered his arm, and his shoulders slumped despondently. He
mumbled to himself. Then, in answer to Martin, he said:

"Little Billy--_och_, 'tis Little Billy, dear Billy! 'Tis feydom,
lad!" And he turned abruptly, strode forward, and was lost in the fog.

When Martin reached aft again, he intended to tell Little Billy about
MacLean's strange behavior. He found the hunchback restlessly pacing
the tiny floor space of their common room. Little Billy lifted a
haggard face as Martin entered.

"Hello, Martin," he said. "I was waiting up for you. Here--keep these
for me, will you?" He extended a bunch of keys. "I'm feel