curiosity as to the unknown power, the same relentless will to be
master, but now intensified a thousandfold in McTee, who looked for the
first time, perhaps, on a man who might be his master. Harrigan knew,
and smiled. He was confident. He half rejoiced in looking forward to
the long struggle.

A knock came and the door opened.

"Masters," said McTee to the boatswain, "we're three hands short."

"Yes, sir."

"Here are the three hands. Take them forward."




CHAPTER 3


Masters looked at Harrigan, started to laugh, looked again, and then
silently held the door open. Harrigan stepped through it and followed
to the forecastle, a dingy retreat in the high bow of the ship. He had
to bend low to pass through the door, and inside he found that he could
not stand erect. It was his first experience of working aboard a ship,
and he expected to find a scrupulous neatness, and hammocks in place of
beds. Instead he looked on a double row of bunks heaped with swarthy
quilts, and the boatswain with a silent gesture indicated that one of
these belonged to Harrigan. He went to it without a word and sat down
cross-legged to survey his new quarters. It was more like the bunkhouse