e top of the 'midship-house, and the mizzen-braces to the poop. It
is evident that they expect our main deck frequently to be filled with
water. So evident is it that a laden ship when in big seas is like a log
awash, that fore and aft, on both sides, along the deck, shoulder-high,
life-lines have been rigged. Also, the two iron doors, on port and
starboard, that open from the cabin directly upon the main deck, have
been barricaded and caulked. Not until we are in the Pacific and flying
north will these doors open again.

And while we prepare to battle around the stormiest headland in the world
our situation on board grows darker. This morning Petro Marinkovich, a
sailor in Mr. Mellaire's watch, was found dead on Number One hatch. The
body bore several knife-wounds and the throat was cut. It was palpably
done by some one or several of the forecastle hands; but not a word can
be elicited. Those who are guilty of it are silent, of course; while
others who may chance to know are afraid to speak.

Before midday the body was overside with the customary sack of coal.
Already the man is a past episode. But the humans for'ard are tense with
expectancy of what is to come. I strolled for'ard this afternoon, and
noted for the first time a distinct hostility toward me. They recognize
that I belong with the after-guard in the high place. Oh, nothing was
said; but it was patent by the way almost every man looked at me, or
refused to look at me. Only Mulligan Jacobs and Charles Davis were
outspoken.

"Good riddance," said Mulligan Jacobs. "The Guinea didn't have the spunk
of a louse. And he's better off, ain't he? He lived dirty, an' he died
dirty, an' now he's over an' done with the whole dirty game. There's men
on board that oughta wish they was as lucky as him. Theirs is still a-
coming to 'em."

"You mean . . . ?" I queried.

"Whatever you want to think I mean," the twisted wretch grinned
malevolently into my face.

Charles Davis, when I peeped into his iron room, was exuberant.

"A pretty tale for the court in Seattle," he exulted. "It'll only make
my case that much stronger. And wait till the reporters get hold of it!
The hell-ship _Elsinore_! They'll have pretty pickin's!"

"I haven't seen any hell-ship," I said coldly.

"You've seen my treatment, ain't you?" he retorted. "You've seen the
hell I've got, ain't you?"

"I know you for a cold-blooded murderer," I answered.

"The court will determi