proceeded as calmly as if he were spinning a yarn
over the galley fire. "What I heard the first
mate and the carpenter talk about only two
hours ago was this. The ice-fog's come on,
and the men (a bad lot in any weather, all but
Davis and two or three more) are beginning to
think we're running dangerously near the ice,
and that we shall get nipped. The mate, when
the captain is away, encourages them in this
idea, and the worst of them talk now of forcing
the captain to steer more southward, so as to
keep clear of the ice-packs off Labrador."

The purser started, and uttered an exclamation
of surprise and indignation.

"Belay there, Mr. Pennant," said the quarter-
master, torcing his sou'-wester firmer on his
head to express hatred for the mate; "that was
only the first entry in their log. Then they went
on to propose sinking the snip, lashing down
the captain and those who wouldn't join them,
destroying all evidence, and taking to the boats
as soon as there was a sight of land."

"But what for?"

"What for? Why for this. The first mate,
as he let out, has had the lading of the vessel.
Well, what did he do, with the help of some
scoundrel friend of his, a shipping agent, but
remove two-thirds of the machinery from the
cases, unknown, of course, to Mr. Buzzard, and
pile them up with old iron, unknown to the
captain, who was away because his father was
dying, and now they want to sink the vessel, and
then to go home and sell the plunder. That's
about the size of it."

"Come this moment and tell the captain
of this scoundrel," said the purser, leaping up
and locking his desk resolutely.

"Now, avast heaving there, not just yet, Mr.
Purser, by your leave; let the thing ripen a
little; let me pick up what I can in the fo'ksal;
they don't mind a poor old beast like me."

"What's all this?" cried a shrill, spiteful
voice, as the door was thrust violently open.
"Where is this purser fellow? Who is it dares
to disobey my orders? What do you mean,
purser, by not serving out this rum? No
skulking here. Thompson, go on deck, see all
made taut for the night, and the fog-bell rigged,
or we shall be run down in this cursed fog."

Thompson slunk out of the cabin.

The purser did not flinch; he took his cap
quietly from its peg. "Mr. Cardew," he said,
"I only obeyed the captain's orders, and I shall
continue to do so till you take command of the
vessel. I'm going on deck for a smoke before I
turn in. Good night, sir."

The mate's eyes became all at once bloodshot
and phosphorescent with a cruel light.

"I tell you what it is, Pennant," he said;
"if I was your captain, I'd maroon you on an
iceberg before you were five hours older, and
I'd let you know first, with a good bit of pickled
rope, what it was to disobey your superior
officer."

"Good night, sir; threatened men live long.
And perhaps you will allow me to lock up my
cabin? Thank you."

With this good-humoured defiance the purser
ran, laughing and singing, up the cabin stairs.

It was Sunday morning, and the ice-fog had
lifted. The vessel had met with mere pancake
ice, loose sheets thin as tinsel, but nothing
more; the wind blew intensely cold as if from
ice-fields of enormous size, but no bergs had
been seen, and the captain, judging from the
ship's reckoning, hoped still to make a swift
and successful voyage, and to be the first to
reach Quebec that season.

The men were mustered for prayers in the
state cabin. It was a pleasant sight to see
them file in, two and two, so trim, with their
blue shirts turned back from their big brown
necks, their jaunty knotted black silk neckerchiefs
and their snowy white trousers; the petty
officers in their best blue jackets, and all so
decorous and disciplined, as they took their
prescribed seats.

Pleasant, too, it was to see the hardy captain
in that wild and remote sea so calmly and
gravely reading the chapter from the Bible
relating to Paul's voyage, with an unconscious
commanding-officer air. If the ship-boy dared
to cough, that stern grey eye nailed him to his
seat; if the boatswain shuffled his feet, there
was a reproving pause between the verses; if
even the spray broke over the hatchway, the
captain was down upon it.

The purser was the last to leave the cabin
when the service was over. As he collected
the Bibles, the captain touched him on the
shoulder.

"I want a word with you, Mr. Pennant," he
said, sitting sorrowfully down at the table with
his hand on his telescope, and his large prayer
book still open before him. "You are an honest,
faithful fellow, and I want to ask you a simple
question. Have you seen or heard anything
lately that makes you think the first mate is
playing double, and exciting the men to mutiny?
Yes or no?"

"Yes, captain."

The captain did not lift his eyes from the
table at this answer, but giving a slight half
disdainful sigh, poured out a glass of water and
drank it, then rose, shook the purser by the
hand, and looked steadily in his face.

"Come up with me, purser, on deck," he
said, "and we will settle this matter at once.
Someone has been altering the vessel's course,
I feel sure, since the morning. If it is the
mate, I will put him in irons. If it cost me my
right arm, I'll keep him in irons. I'm a fool
not to have seen it all before. I was warned
about that man in Liverpool."

When the captain stood upon the deck, the
chill white ice-fog was again bearing down fast
on the Shooting Star. It was bearing down
with a spectral gloom that was depressing in a
sea known to be still half blocked with ice
packs. A Sabbath calm reigned over the vessel.
The men were lying down by the trim rope coils,
some reading, some conversing; not a plank
but was clean as a pink; not a bolt-head or brass
but shone as well as anything could shine