such an expedition as the present, was the most dangerous person
imaginable to be given the freedom of the ship.

So passed twelve days and nights. Mr. Schultz kept in his pocket the
key to the captain's state-room, and consequently was always present
when the little cockney steward brought the prisoner his meals, tidied
up the state-room and made up the captain's bed. The captain spent
most of his time lying on his uninjured side and remained very quiet,
for the fractured rib, which had received no attention, was causing
him a great deal of suffering. Neither did the bullet wound in his
shoulder heal cleanly, for the reason, unknown to the captain, that
the bullet had carried with it into the muscle a fragment of Michael
J.'s undershirt.

However, his physical sufferings were as nothing compared with those
he experienced mentally. He had hoped to be in fair fighting condition
within a week at the latest. Wrapped in paper and tucked away in the
back of the ship's safe he had a silver-hilted stiletto he had taken
away from a cutthroat who had tried to rob him once in Valparaiso--and
with this weapon he had planned to cut away the lock on the state-room
door. And once outside--

What Michael J. Murphy did not know was that when one has dislocated
one's shoulder one will do very little wood-carving during the three
subsequent weeks. It almost broke the skipper's heart to think he had
made a threat in good faith, and was balked from making it good.

During this entire period Mr. Reardon was going about his duties as
usual, in absolute ignorance of the state of affairs about the ship,
for he was an innocent, trustful sort of fellow, and to a born