"

"What will you do?" I queried.

"Do?" Mr. Pike's voice was fraught with surprise that I should not know.
"Do? Well, what did he do to old Captain Somers? Yet he's disappeared
these last three years now. I've heard neither hide nor hair of him. But
he's a sailor, and he'll drift back to the sea, and some day . . . "

In the illumination of a match with which the second mate was lighting
his pipe I saw Mr. Pike's gorilla arms and huge clenched paws raised to
heaven, and his face convulsed and working. Also, in that brief moment
of light, I saw that the second mate's hand which held the match was
shaking.

"And I ain't never seen even a photo of him," Mr. Pike added. "But I've
got a general idea of his looks, and he's got a mark unmistakable. I
could know him by it in the dark. All I'd have to do is feel it. Some
day I'll stick my fingers into that mark."

"What did you say, sir, was the captain's name?" Mr. Mellaire asked
casually.

"Somers--old Captain Somers," Mr. Pike answered.

Mr. Mellaire repeated the name aloud several times, and then hazarded:

"Didn't he command the _Lammermoor_ thirty years ago?"

"That's the man."

"I thought I recognized him. I lay at anchor in a ship next to his in
Table Bay that time ago."

"Oh, the wickedness of the world, the wickedness of the world," Mr. Pike
muttered as he turned and strode away.

I said good-night to the second mate and had started to go below, when he
called to me in a low voice, "Mr. Pathurst!"

I stopped, and then he said, hurriedly and confusedly:

"Never mind, sir . . . I beg your pardon . . . I--I changed my mind."

Below, lying in my bunk, I found myself unable to read. My mind was bent
on returning to what had just occurred on deck, and, against my will, the
most gruesome speculations kept suggesting themselves.

And then came Mr. Mellaire. He had slipped down the booby hatch into the
big after-room and thence through the hallway to my room. He entered
noiselessly, on clumsy tiptoes, and pressed his finger warningly to his
lips. Not until he was beside my bunk did he speak, and then it was in a
whisper.

"I beg your pardon, sir, Mr. Pathurst . . . I--I beg your pardon; but,
you see, sir, I was just passing, and seeing you awake I . . . I thought
it would not inconvenience you to . . . you see, I thought I might just
as well prefer a small favour . . . seeing that I would not inconvenience
you, sir . . . I . . . I . . . "