is gloomy," I persisted. "How do you think it will
end?"

"We shall arrive in Seattle most probably, some of us. But I can tell
you this, sir: I have lived a long life on the sea, but I have never seen
a crew like this. There are few sailors in it; there are bad men in it;
and the rest are fools and worse. You will notice I mention no names,
sir; but there are men on board whom I do not care to antagonize. I am
just Louis, the cook. I do my work to the best of my ability, and that
is all, sir."

"And will Charles Davis arrive in Seattle?" I asked, changing the topic
in acknowledgment of his right to be reticent.

"No, I do not think so, sir," he answered, although his eyes thanked me
for my courtesy. "The steward tells me you have bet that he will. I
think, sir, it is a poor bet. We are about to go around the Horn. I
have been around it many times. This is midwinter, and we are going from
east to west. Davis' room will be awash for weeks. It will never be
dry. A strong healthy man confined in it could well die of the hardship.
And Davis is far from well. In short, sir, I know his condition, and he
is in a shocking state. Surgeons might prolong his life, but here in a
wind-jammer it is shortened very rapidly. I have seen many men die at
sea. I know, sir. Thank you, sir."

And the Eurasian Chinese-Englishman bowed himself away.

CHAPTER XXXII

Things are worse than I fancied. Here are two episodes within the last
seventy-two hours. Mr. Mellaire, for instance, is going to pieces. He
cannot stand the strain of being on the same vessel with the man who has
sworn to avenge Captain Somers's murder, especially when that man is the
redoubtable Mr. Pike.

For several days Margaret and I have been remarking the second mate's
bloodshot eyes and pain-lined face and wondering if he were sick. And to-
day the secret leaked out. Wada does not like Mr. Mellaire, and this
morning, when he brought me breakfast, I saw by the wicked, gleeful gleam
in his almond eyes that he was spilling over with some fresh, delectable
ship's gossip.

For several days, I learned, he and the steward have been solving a cabin
mystery. A gallon can of wood alcohol, standing on a shelf in the after-
room, had lost quite a portion of its contents. They compared notes and
then made of themselves a Sherlock Holmes and a Doctor Watson. First,
they gauged the daily diminution of alcohol. Next they gauged it several
time