in the cabin while I sleep. Best to
keep an eye on the girl."

Ichi turned to Martin.

"So we have made prepare," he stated.

He drew a revolver from his hip-pocket, examined it ostentatiously, and
placed it carefully in a side coat-pocket. Martin, regarding the
weapon with covetous eyes, recognized it as one of the ship's arms.

"Now, my dear Mr. Blake, you will be of such kindness to go before me
to the deck? Yes, please?"

Martin arose promptly and started for the alley-way leading to the main
deck. In his mind mingled triumph and trepidation--triumph because he
knew that Ichi's expedition to the shore would lessen the number of the
crew holding the ship and thereby aid the boatswain's plan for delivery
which he was sure was maturing in the darkness of the hold; trepidation
because despite his resolution to fortitude he was more than a little
uneasy concerning his own future. If he went ashore with Ichi, would
he live to return? Had Carew given orders as to his disposition? He
had intercepted glances filled with a smoldering hate, during that
whispered conversation a moment since.

Martin had a feeling that he was the object of that discussion, there
at the other end of the cabin. Was Carew whispering murderous orders
into Ichi's ready ear? The man was smarting under Ruth's scorn. What
more natural to Carew's pitiless nature than to sop his mad jealousy
with his rival's death?

The Japanese gentleman, cruel and vindictive beneath his surface
suavity, would, Martin felt, be pleased to put a period to his
existence. Was it merely to cow him that Ichi so carefully examined
his gun? Or was it to have cruel sport with him, as Ichi had attempted
to have with the boatswain?

"Whatever way," ran Martin's thought, "my job is to get as many of
these yellow imps ashore as is possible, and hold them there as long as
I can, so that the bosun, leading his outbreak, will have a chance of
success. What if Ichi does let daylight through me? It is for Ruth!"

Closely followed by Ichi, Martin traversed the passage and stepped out
on deck, and found himself bathed with the sunlight of a bright, calm
morning. At Ichi's word, he paused outside the door.

Ichi continued across the deck and spoke to a man who was shouting over
the rail to a boat crew overside. Martin recognized the man; he was
the same bow-legged, muscular little Jap who had acted as his guide
that night in the Black Cruiser. He wore an air of a