events and men giving to this complication
of a yachting voyage a significance impossible to perceive, but felt
in the words, in the gestures, in the events, which made them all
strangely, obscurely startling.

He was not one who could keep track of his sensations, and besides he
had not the leisure. He had to answer Lingard's questions about the
people of the yacht. No, he couldn't say Mrs. Travers was what you may
call frightened. She seemed to have something in her mind. Oh, yes! The
chaps were in a funk. Would they fight? Anybody would fight when driven
to it, funk or no funk. That was his experience. Naturally one liked
to have something better than a handspike to do it with. Still--In the
pause Carter seemed to weigh with composure the chances of men with
handspikes.

"What do you want to fight us for?" he asked, suddenly.

Lingard started.

"I don't," he said; "I wouldn't be asking you."

"There's no saying what you would do, Captain," replied Carter; "it
isn't twenty-four hours since you wanted to shoot me."

"I only said I would, rather than let you go raising trouble for me,"
explained Lingard.

"One night isn't like another," mumbled Carter, "but how am I to know?
It seems to me you are making trouble for yourself as fast as you can."

"Well, supposing I am," said Lingard with sudden gloominess. "Would your
men fight if I armed them properly?"

"What--for you or for themselves?" asked Carter.

"For the woman," burst out Lingard. "You forget there's a woman on
board. I don't care _that_ for their carcases."

Carter pondered conscientiously.

"Not to-night," he said at last. "There's one or two good men amongst
them, but the rest are struck all of a heap. Not to-night. Give them
time to get steady a bit if you want them to fight."

He gave facts and opinions with a mixture of loyalty and mistrust. His
own state puzzled him exceedingly. He couldn't make out anything, he did
not know what to believe and yet he had an impulsive desire, an inspired
desire to help the man. At times it appeared a necessity--at others
policy; between whiles a great folly, which perhaps did not matter
because he suspected himself of being helpless anyway. Then he had
moments of anger. In those moments he would feel in his pocket the
butt of a loaded pistol. He had provided himself with the weapon, when
directed by Mrs. Travers to go on board the brig.

"If he wants to interfere with me, I'll let drive at him and take m