It was McTee who saw Harrigan first and pointed him out to Kate. She
leaned against the rail and peered down at him, shuddering at the sight
of his drawn face and shadowed eyes. Then she turned with a little
shrug of repulsion.

McTee must have made some humorous comment, for she turned to glance
down at Harrigan again and this time she laughed. Blind rage made the
blood of the Irishman hot. That gave him his last strength, but even
this ran out. Finally he knew that the next day was his last, and when
that day came, he counted the hours. They passed heavy-footed, as time
goes for one condemned to die. And then he sat cross-legged on his bunk
and waited.

The giant Negro came, bringing word that the bos'n wanted him to scrub
down the bridge. He remained with his head bowed, unhearing. The bos'n
himself came, cursing. He called to Harrigan, and getting no answer
shook him by the shoulder. He put his hand under Harrigan's chin and
raised the listless head. It rolled heavily back and the dull eyes
stared up at him.

"God!" said the bos'n, and started back.

The head remained where he had placed it, the eyes staring straight up
at the ceiling.

"God!" whispered the bos'n again, and ran from the forecastle.

In time--it seemed hours--Harrigan heard many voices approaching.
McTee's bass was not among them, but he knew that McTee was coming, and
Harrigan wondered whether he would have the strength to refuse to obey