enly. "There's too much words and
words.... You'll answer now."

"I'll answer in the morning," Joel repeated, as though he had not heard
Varde. "In the morning. And--for now--I'll bid you good night,
gentlemen."

Mark chuckled. "There's one matter, Joel. You've two rifles and a pair of
revolvers in the lockfast by your cabin there. I'll take them--to avoid
that blood-spilling you mention."

Priss held her breath, listening.... But Joel said readily: "Yes. Here is
the key, Mark. And--I hold you responsible for the weapons."

Her anger at Joel for his submission beat in her ears; and she heard the
jingle of the keys, and the scrape and ring of the weapons as Mark took
them. He called to Joel as he did so: "They'll not leave my hands. Till
the morning, Joel, my boy...."

The keys jingled again. Mark said: "We'll ask you to stay in the after
cabin here till morning. And--Varde will be in the main cabin to see that
you do it."

"I'll stay here," Joel promised.

"Then--we'll bid you good night!"

Priss heard Joel echo the words, in even tones. Then the door closed
behind the men.... There was no further sound in the after cabin.

She opened her door. Joel stood by his desk, head drooping, one hand
resting on the open log before him. She went toward him, and when he
turned and saw her, she stopped, and studied him, her eyes searching his.
And at last she said, so softly it was as though she spoke to herself:

"'All the brothers were valiant,' Joel. Are you--just a coward?"

He would not justify himself to her; he could only remember the shadowed
deck beneath the boat house--Priscilla in his brother's arms.... He
lifted his right hand a little, said sternly:

"Go back to your place."

She flung her eyes away from him, stood for an instant, then went to her
cabin with feet that lagged and stumbled.

XIV

Joel lay for an hour, planning what he should do. He could not yield....
He could not yield, even though he might wish to do so; for the yielding
would forfeit forever all control over these men, or any others. He could
not yield....

Yet he did not wish to fight; for the battle would be hopeless, with only
death at the end for him, and it would ruin the men and lose the ship....
Blood marks a ship with a mark that cannot be washed away. And Joel loved
his ship; and he loved his men with something of the love of a father for
children. Children they were. He knew them. Simple, easily led, easily
swept