be first as last. I
suppose half measures do not go with these lads."

"Santa Maria---no! It is kill, or be killed, in our trade, and they
will try out your metal. Come on now."

I followed him up the stairs to the deck. His words had in no way
alarmed me, but served rather to harden my resolve. I looked for
trouble, and was inclined to welcome it, anxious indeed to prove to
Estada my ability to handle men. Nothing else would so quickly appeal
to him, or serve so rapidly to establish me in his esteem; and to win
his confidence was my chief concern. Nothing occurred, however, to
cause any breach of authority. A few fellows were lounging amidships
and stared idly at us as we mounted to the poop deck. These were of
the fighting contingent I supposed, and the real members of the crew
were forward. LeVere was still on duty, and came forward and shook
hands at my appearance.

"Rather glad I didn't drown you," he said, intending to be pleasant.
"But hope you'll not run amuck in the after cabin."

"I shall try not too, unless I have cause," I answered, looking him
square in the eyes, and determining to make my position clear at once.
"Senor Estada tells me I am to relieve you. What is the course?"

"Sou'west, by half sou'."

"We might be carrying more canvas."

"There is nothing to hurry about, and the fog is thick."

"That will probably lift within an hour. Do you know your position?"

"Only in a general way. We have held an east by south course since
leaving the Capes, until an hour ago, making about ten knots."

"Very well, I will figure it out as best I can, and mark it on the
chart. There is nothing further to report?"

"No Senor; all has been as it is now."

He glanced toward Estada, not greatly pleased I presume with my
brusqueness, yet finding nothing in either words or manner from which
to evoke a quarrel. The latter had overheard our conversation, but he
stood now with back toward us looking out on the sea off the port
quarter. His silent indifference caused LeVere to shrug his shoulders,
and disappear down the ladder on his way below. I turned my face to
the man at the wheel--it was the giant negro--Cochose.

CHAPTER XV

THE CABIN OF THE NAMUR

Both huge black hands grasped the spokes, and it was evident that it
required all his giant strength to control the bucking wheel. He was
an ugly-looking brute, the lower portion of his face apelike, and the
wool growing so low as to leave him scarce