The discovery of Aaron's loyalty had been immensely heartening to Joel. If Aaron were loyal, there might be others.... Must be.... Not all men are false....

He wondered who they would be; he went over the men, one by one, from mate to humblest foremast hand. Finch and Varde were surely against him. Old Hooper--he and Aaron were cronies, and the other mates had left Hooper somewhat out of their movements thus far. Old Hooper might be, give him his chance, on Joel's side....

Old Hooper, and Aaron. Two. Dick Morrell? A boy, hot with the wonder and glamor of Mark's tale. Easily swung to either side. Joel thought he would not swing too desperately to the lawless side. But--he could not be counted on. What others were there?

Joel had brought his own harpooner from the Martin Wilkes. A big Island black. A decent man.... A chance. Besides him, there were three men who had served Asa Worthen long among the foremast hands. Uncertain quantities. Chances everywhere....

But--he must strike quickly. There was no time to sound them out. When his dinner was brought at noon, his broken bonds would be discovered. They would be more careful thereafter. Three hours lay before him....

He set himself to listen with all his ears; to guess at what was going on above decks, and so choose his moment. He must wait as long as it was safe to wait; he must wait till men's bloods ran less hot after the crisis of the morning. He must wait till sober second thought was upon them....

But there was always the chance to fear that Mark might come down. He could not wait too long....

He could hear feet moving on the deck above his head. The Nathan Ross had run into rougher weather with her change of course; the wind was stiffening, and now and then a whisk of spray came aboard. He heard Jim Finch's bellowing commands.... Heard Mark's laughter. Mark and Jim were astern, fairly over his head.

There were men in the main cabin. The scrape of their feet, the murmur of their voices came to him. Dick Morrell and old Hooper, perhaps....

It was through these men that Joel's moment came. Finch, on deck, shouted down to them.... Mark had decided to shorten sail, ease the strain on the old masts. Joel heard Morrell and Hooper go up to the deck....

That would mean most of the men aloft.... The decks would be fairly clear. His chance....

He wished he could know where Varde sat; but he could not be sure of that, and he could not wait to guess by listening. He caught up a blanket from his bunk, held it open in his hands, drew back--and threw himself against the cabin door.

It opened so easily that he overbalanced, all but fell. The screws had been set in punch holes so large that the threads scarce took hold at all. Joel stumbled out--saw Varde on the cushioned bench which ran across the stern. The mate was reading, a book from Joel's narrow shelf. At sight of Joel, he was for an instant paralyzed with surprise....

That instant was long enough for Joel. He swept the blanket down upon the man, smothering his cries with fold on fold; and he grappled Varde, and crushed him, and beat at his head with his fists until the mate's spasmodic struggles slackened. Priss had heard the sounds of combat, swept out of her cabin, bent above them. He looked up and saw her; and he said quietly:

"Get back into your place."

She cried pitifully: "I want to help. Please...."

He shook his head. &qu............