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“On the contrary, captain, I shall not receive it. On the contrary, sir, I shall speak of this wholesale murder at the first opportunity!”

The captain leaned back and stared at the debauched face, the trembling figure of the sailor, with which this defiant speech so little accorded. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have sent him on deck to be dealt with by the officers. But this was not an ordinary circumstance. In the watery eyes was a look of shock, and horror, and honest indignation; the accents were those of an educated man; and the consequences hanging over himself and the company for which he worked–already complicated by and involved in his efforts to avoid them–which this man might precipitate, were so extreme, that such questions as insolence and difference in rank were not to be thought of. He must meet and subdue this Tartar on common ground–as man to man.

“Are you aware, Rowland,” he asked, quietly, “that you will stand alone–that you will be discredited, lose your berth, and make enemies?”

“I am aware of more than that,” answered Rowland, excitedly. “I know of the power vested in you as captain. I know that you can order me into irons from this room for any offense you wish to imagine. And I know that an unwitnessed, uncorroborated entry in your official log concerning me would be evidence enough to bring me life imprisonment. But I also know something of admiralty law; that from my prison cell I can send you and your first officer to the gallows.”

“You are mistaken in your conceptions of evidence. I could not cause your conviction by a log-book entry; nor could you, from a prison, injure me. What are you, may I ask–an ex-lawyer?”

“A graduate of Annapolis. Your equal in professional technic.”

“And you have interest at Washington?”

“None whatever.”

“And what is your object in taking this stand–which can do you no possible good, though certainly not the harm you speak of?”

“That I may do one good, strong act in my useless life–that I may help to arouse such a sentiment of anger in the two countries as will forever end this wanton destruction of life and property for the sake of speed–that will save the hundreds of fishing-craft, and others, run down yearly, to their owners, and the crews to their families.”

Both men had risen and the captain was pacing the floor as Rowland, with flashing eyes and clinched fists, delivered this declaration.

“A result to be hoped for, Rowland,” said the former, pausing before him, “but beyond your power or mine to accomplish. Is the amount I named large enough? Could you fill a position on my bridge?”

“I can fill a higher; and your company is not rich enough to buy me.”

“You seem to be a man without ambition; but you must have wants.”

“Food, clothing, shelter–and whisky,” said Rowland with a bitter, self-contemptuous laugh. The captain reached down a decanter and two glasses from a swinging tray and said as he placed them before him:

“Here is one of your wants; fill up.” Rowland’s eyes glistened as he poured out a glassful, and the captain followed.

“I will drink with you, Rowland,” he said; “here is to our better understanding.” He tossed off the liquor; then Rowland, who had waited, said: “I prefer drinking alone, captain,” and drank the whisky at a gulp. The captain’s face flushed at the affront, but he controlled himself.

“Go on deck, now, Rowland,” he said; “I will talk with you again before we reach soundings. Meanwhile, I request–not require, but request–that you hold no useless conversation with your shipmates in regard to this matter.”

To the first officer, when relieved at eight bells, the captain said: “He is a broken-down wreck with a temporarily active conscience; but is not the man to buy or intimidate: he knows too much. However, we’ve found his weak point. If he gets snakes before we dock, his testimony is worthless. Fill him up and I’ll see the surgeon, and study up on drugs.”