urrendered myself. They listened in silence while I told them the
situation. Burns, who had been trying to sleep, sat up and stared at
me incredulously.

"It will leave you pretty short-handed, boys," I finished, "but you'd
better fasten me up somewhere. But I want to be sure of one thing
first: whatever happens, keep the guard for the women."

"We'd like to talk it over, Leslie," Burns said, after a word with the
others.

I went forward a few feet, taking care to remain where they could see
me, and very soon they called me. There had been a dispute, I believe.
Adams and McNamara stood off from the others, their faces not
unfriendly, but clearly differing from the decision. Charlie Jones,
who, by reason of long service and a sort of pious control he had in
the forecastle, was generally spokesman for the crew, took a step or
two toward me.

"We'll not do it, boy," he said. "We think we know a man when we see
one, as well as having occasion to know that you're white all through.
And we're not inclined to set the talk of women against what we think
best to do. So you stick to your job, and we're back of you."

In spite of myself, I choked up. I tried to tell them what their
loyalty meant to me; but I could only hold out my hand, and, one by
one, they came up and shook it solemnly.

"We think," McNamara said, when, last of all, he and Adams came up,
"that it would be best, lad, if we put down in the log-book all that
has happened last night and to-day, and this just now, too. It's fresh
in our minds now, and it will be something to go by."

So Burns and I got the log-book from the captain's cabin. The axe was
there, where we had placed it earlier in the day, lying on the white
cover of the bed. The room was untouched, as the dead man had left
it--a collar on the stand, brushes put down hastily, a half-smoked
cigar which had burned a long scar on the wood before it had gone out.
We went out silently, Burns carrying the book, I locking the door
behind us.

Mrs. Johns, sitting near the companionway with the revolver on her
knee, looked up and eyed me coolly.

"So they would not do it!"

"I am sorry to disappoint you--they would not."

She held up my revolver to me, and smiled cynically.

"Remember," she said, "I only said you were a possibility."

"Thank you; I shall remember."

By unanimous consent, the task of putting down what had happened was
given to me. I have a copy of the log-book before m