voice, peaceful and faint.

"D'you mean to say, John, you would go to the bottom as soon as you
would go home? Come now!"--"To the bottom," repeated the wan voice,
composedly. "Aye! That's where we all are going to, in one way or
another. The way don't matter."

"Ough! You would give the blues to the funny man of a blooming circus.
What would my missus say if I wasn't to turn up never at all?"--"She
would get another man; there's always plenty of fools about." A quiet
and mirthless chuckle was heard in the pause of shocked silence.
Lingard, with his hand on the door, remained still. Further off a growl
burst out: "I do hate to be chucked in the dark aboard a strange ship.
I wonder where they keep their fresh water. Can't get any sense out of
them silly niggers. We don't seem to be more account here than a lot of
cattle. Likely as not we'll have to berth on this blooming quarter-deck
for God knows how long." Then again very near Lingard the first voice
said, deadened discreetly--"There's something curious about this here
brig turning up sudden-like, ain't there? And that skipper of her--now?
What kind of a man is he--anyhow?"

"Oh, he's one of them skippers going about loose. The brig's his own, I
am thinking. He just goes about in her looking for what he may pick up
honest or dishonest. My brother-in-law has served two commissions in
these seas, and was telling me awful yarns about what's going on in them
God-forsaken parts. Likely he lied, though. Them man-of-war's men are
a holy terror for yarns. Bless you, what do I care who this skipper is?
Let him do his best and don't trouble your head. You won't see him again
in your life once we get clear."

"And can he do anything for the owner?" asked the first voice
again.--"Can he! We can do nothing--that's one thing certain. The owner
may be lying clubbed to death this very minute for all we know. By all
accounts these savages here are a crool murdering lot. Mind you, I am
sorry for him as much as anybody."--"Aye, aye," muttered the other,
approvingly.--"He may not have been ready, poor man," began again the
reasonable voice. Lingard heard a deep sigh.--"If there's anything as
can be done for him, the owner's wife she's got to fix it up with this
'ere skipper. Under Providence he may serve her turn."

Lingard flung open the cabin door, entered, and, with a slam, shut the
darkness out.

"I am, under Providence, to serve your turn," he said after standing
very still f