hing once or twice the
whispering groups of idle men, wished a whale might be sighted; and once
he sent Morrell and Varde to find tasks for the men to do, and kept them
at it through the long afternoon, scraping, scrubbing, painting....

Priss kept to her cabin. When she did not appear at breakfast, Joel went
to her door and knocked. She called to him: "I've a headache. I'm going
to rest." He ordered that food be sent to her....

He stayed on deck till late, that night; but with the coming of night the
ship had grown quiet, and most of the men were below in the fo'c's'le. So
at last Joel left the deck to Varde, and went below. He sat down at his
desk and wrote up the day's log....

Priss came to him there. She had been in bed; and she wore a heavy
dressing gown over her night garments. Her hair was braided, hanging
across her shoulders. She sat down beside the desk, and when Joel could
fight back the misery in his eyes, he looked toward her and asked:

"Is your head--better?"

She said very quietly: "Joel, I want to ask you something."

He wanted her sympathy so terribly, and her tone was so cool and so aloof
that he winced; but he said: "Very well?"

"Mark says he asked you to take the _Nathan Ross_ to get--the pearls he
left on that island. Is that true?"

"Yes," said Joel.

"He says you would not do it."

"I will not do it," Joel told her.

"He says," said Priss quietly, "that you are afraid. He says that was
your own word ... when he accused you. Is that true?"

If there had been any sympathy or understanding in her voice or in her
eyes, he would have told her ... told her that it was for his ship and
not for himself that he was afraid. But there was not. She was so cold
and hard.... He would not seek to justify himself to her....

"Yes," he said quietly. "I used that word."

She turned her eyes quickly away from his, that he might not see the pain
in hers.... She rose to go back to her cabin....

As she reached the door, some one knocked on the door that led to the
main cabin; and without waiting for word from Joel, that door opened.
Mark stood there. He came in, with Finch, and Varde, and old Hooper and
young Morrell on his heels.... Priss shrank back into her cabin, closed
the door to a crack, listened....

Joel got to his feet. "What is it?" he asked.

Mark bowed low, faced his brother with a cold and triumphant smile.
"These gentlemen have asked me," he explained, "to tell you that we have