want you for that!" asserted Carew. "It is you, you
alone! The ambergris goes to my employers, to Ichi, here, and his
partners. I must get it for them. It is the bargain I made. My own
share will not be great, Ruth; I would gladly give a hundred times as
much for your favor. But I am rich, girl. I have plenty salted away.
I'll make my peace with my family, and we shall go home, to England.
You'll be my wife, my legal wife!"

"I would rather be dead than your wife!" declared Ruth with vehemence.
"I hate you!"

"And I say I will take you, hating me, rather than lose you!" returned
Carew. His manner of impassioned pleading changed abruptly to
threatening. "I'll beg no more of you, my haughty minx! But I will
suggest that you reflect upon the reality of your condition. In any
event, what will become of yourself? Hey? And what will become of
this darling crew of yours, we hold prisoners below? And what will
become of this scrub, here in the chair--this apple of your eye?"

"By Jove! You had better jolly well think about it! Would you rather
have your grandfather, and the crew, and this lover of yours, set upon
some safe shore--or, have the other thing happen to them? It rests
with you!"

Martin's rage mounted to boiling-point during Wild Bob's remarkable
wooing. The man's raw insults made him furious; the stormy browbeating
of the woman he loved set him a-tingle with the strongest desire he had
ever known--a desire to fling himself upon this sneering wretch and
vindicate his manhood by battle. His hands crawled in their restraint,
in their lust to batter upon that supercilious face. But he dare not.
He knew that an outbreak on his part would mean the death of their
chance to regain the ship.

So he held himself in check, biting his lips over his enforced
impotence. But Carew's final threat wrung speech from him, for he saw
speculation in Ruth's eyes, as she measured her tormentor. The
dreadful thought occurred to Martin, "Ruth will barter herself to save
the rest of us!"

"No, no, Ruth!" he cried out. "Pay no attention!"

"Shut up!" roared Carew, wheeling furiously upon him. "If you speak
again, I'll have Moto put a clapper on your tongue!" He turned to Ruth
again. "And now, my girl, you will do the begging! We'll listen to
you beg for this pretty boy! Are you going to tell us how to reach the
ambergris or shall I order Moto to commence his work?"

"The information--ah, but I am certain