rom me. No, sir! Don't you make a mistake! I
wasn't going to give you up, dead or alive."

He looked hard at Lingard while saying these words and saw the first
sign of animation pass over that ravaged face. He saw even its lips move
slightly; but there was no sound, and Carter looked away again.

"Perhaps you would have done better by telling me everything; but you
left me behind on my own to be your man here. I put my hand to the
work I could see before me. I am a sailor. There were two ships to look
after. And here they are both for you, fit to go or to stay, to fight or
to run, as you choose." He watched with bated breath the effort Lingard
had to make to utter the two words of the desired commendation:

"Well done!"

"And I am your man still," Carter added, impulsively, and hastened to
look away from Lingard, who had tried to smile at him and had failed.
Carter didn't know what to do next, remain in the cabin or leave that
unsupported strong man to himself. With a shyness completely foreign to
his character and which he could not understand himself, he suggested
in an engaging murmur and with an embarrassed assumption of his right to
give advice:

"Why not lie down for a bit, sir? I can attend to anything that may turn
up. You seem done up, sir."

He was facing Lingard, who stood on the other side of the table in a
leaning forward attitude propped up on rigid arms and stared fixedly at
him--perhaps? Carter felt on the verge of despair. This couldn't last.
He was relieved to see Lingard shake his head slightly.

"No, Mr. Carter. I think I will go on deck," said the Captain of the
famous brig Lightning, while his eyes roamed all over the cabin. Carter
stood aside at once, but it was some little time before Lingard made a
move.

The sun had sunk already, leaving that evening no trace of its glory on
a sky clear as crystal and on the waters without a ripple. All colour
seemed to have gone out of the world. The oncoming shadow rose as subtle
as a perfume from the black coast lying athwart the eastern semicircle;
and such was the silence within the horizon that one might have fancied
oneself come to the end of time. Black and toylike in the clear depths
and the final stillness of the evening the brig and the schooner lay
anchored in the middle of the main channel with their heads swung the
same way. Lingard, with his chin on his breast and his arms folded,
moved slowly here and there about the poop. Close and mut