s I; "what can I do for you?" "Sell me your sea-boots,
Mr. Fay," says O'Sullivan, polite as can be. "But what will you be
wantin' of them?" says I. "'Twill be a great favour," says O'Sullivan.
"But it's my only pair," says I; "and you have a pair of your own," says
I. "Mr. Fay, I'll be needin' me own in bad weather," says O'Sullivan.
"Besides," says I, "you have no money." "I'll pay for them when we pay
off in Seattle," says O'Sullivan. "I'll not do it," says I; "besides,
you're not tellin' me what you'll be doin' with them." "But I will tell
yeh," says O'Sullivan; "I'm wantin' to throw 'em over the side." And
with that I turns to walk away, but O'Sullivan says, very polite and
seducin'-like, still a-stroppin' the razor, "Mr. Fay," says he, "will you
kindly step this way an' have your throat cut?" And with that I knew my
life was in danger, and I have come to make report to you, sir, that the
man is a violent lunatic.'

"Or soon will be," I remarked. "I noticed him yesterday, a big man
muttering continually to himself?"

"That's the man," Mr. Mellaire said.

"Do you have many such at sea?" I asked.

"More than my share, I do believe, sir."

He was lighting a cigarette at the moment, and with a quick movement he
pulled off his cap, bent his head forward, and held up the blazing match
that I might see.

I saw a grizzled head, the full crown of which was not entirely bald, but
partially covered with a few sparse long hairs. And full across this
crown, disappearing in the thicker fringe above the ears, ran the most
prodigious scar I had ever seen. Because the vision of it was so
fleeting, ere the match blew out, and because of the scar's very
prodigiousness, I may possibly exaggerate, but I could have sworn that I
could lay two fingers deep into the horrid cleft and that it was fully
two fingers broad. There seemed no bone at all, just a great fissure, a
deep valley covered with skin; and I was confident that the brain pulsed
immediately under that skin.

He pulled his cap on and laughed in an amused, reassuring way.

"A crazy sea cook did that, Mr. Pathurst, with a meat-axe. We were
thousands of miles from anywhere, in the South Indian Ocean at the time,
running our Easting down, but the cook got the idea into his addled head
that we were lying in Boston Harbour, and that I wouldn't let him go
ashore. I had my back to him at the time, and I never knew what struck
me."

"But how could you recover f