It was with the greatest effort that Dennison crushed down the desire to

leap upon his tormentor. He stood tense for a moment, then stepped out

upon the bridge. His fury was suffocating him, and he realized that he was

utterly helpless.

Ten minutes later the crew in their quarters were astonished to see the

old man's son enter. None of them stirred.

"I say, any you chaps got an extra suit of twill? This uniform is getting

too thick for this latitude. I'm fair melting down to the bone."

"Sure!" bellowed a young giant, swinging out of his bunk. He rummaged

round for a space and brought forth a light-weight khaki shirt and a pair

of ducks. "Guess these'll fit you, sir."

"Thanks. Navy stores?"

"Yes, sir. You're welcome."

Dennison's glance travelled from face to face, and he had to admit that

there was none of the criminal type here. They might carry through

decently. Nevertheless, hereafter he would sleep on the lounge in the

main salon. If any tried to force the dry-stores door he would be likely

to hear it.

At eleven o'clock the following morning there occurred an episode which

considerably dampened Jane's romantical point of view regarding this

remarkable voyage. Cleigh had gone below for some illuminated manuscripts

and Dennison was out of sight for the moment. She leaned over the rail and

watched the flying fish. Suddenly out of nowhere came the odour of

whisky.

"You ought to take a trip up to the cutwater at night and see the flying

fish in the phosphorescence."

She did not stir. Instinctively she knew who the owner of this voice would

be--the man Cunningham called Flint. A minute--an unbearable

minute--passed.

"Oh! Too haughty to be a good fellow, huh?"

Footsteps, a rush of wind, a scuffling, and an oath brought her head

about. She saw Flint go balancing and stumbling backward, finally to sprawl

on his hands and knees, and following him, in an unmistakable attitude,

was Dennison. Jane was beginning to understand these Cleighs; their rage

was terrible because it was always cold.

"Denny!" she called.

But Dennison continued on toward Flint.




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