the boatswain to call the port watch. Watkins
came aft to the wheel, and I sent the fellow thus relieved down into
the cabin to rout out LeVere. The two returned to deck together, the
negro glancing about curiously without mounting the ladder.

"You call Senor Estada yet?" he questioned.

"No; I had no orders to do so."

"He tol' me call him at daylight. Here you, Amada; go wake up the
Senor."

The seaman disappeared grumbling, while LeVere crossed the poop deck,
and stood beside me looking out across the expanse of sea.

"No sail--hey? We hav' bad luck--too far north."

"And west; we are out of the sea lanes; but if it keeps bright I'll
take an observation at noon."

Amada emerged from the companion, and stared up at us, shading his
mouth with one hand as he spoke.

"He answer nothing, Senor LeVere."

"You rapped on the door?"

"Si, Senor; I strike with my fist, and my boot, but he never wake
up."

"Was the door locked?"

"I know not, Senor; I not try open it."

LeVere gave utterance to an oath.

"The pig-headed swine," he said fiercely. "I suppose I'll have to go
myself."

Our eyes met, and something seemed to bid me accompany him.

"We'll go down together, Senor," I said quietly. "Estada must be sick;
I could hear the rumpus Amada kicked up even on deck here. No man
could sleep through that racket."

CHAPTER XVIII

A NEW CONSPIRACY

The interior of the cabin appeared more desolate than ever in the gray
light of dawn. The swinging light yet burned, but was now useless, all
the dismal horrors of the place revealed by the slowly increasing
gleam of day stealing down from above. Gunsaules had not appeared, and
LeVere's stateroom door remained ajar, giving glimpse of the
disarranged bunk within. The other doors were tightly closed. LeVere
rather held back, not noticeably so, perhaps, yet enough to give me
the lead, and, with one swift glance about, I led the way directly to
Estada's stateroom.

Something sinister had occurred during the dark hours of the night. Of
that I was convinced, and I believed we were now about to lift the
veil hiding the tragedy. My heart pounded like a hammer as I rapped on
the wooden panels and waited some response from within. There was no
answer, no sound of movement, and I rapped again more loudly, my
questioning eyes seeking LeVere's face. He was listening as intently
as myself, his eyes expressing anxiety. If I had felt some suspicion
of the man before,