room. "Now get out," commanded Harrigan. "I will be alone with him when
he wakes up. I have something to whisper in his ear."

"Is it safe?" said the first mate to the chief engineer, gesturing with
his weapon.

Harrigan snatched it away and waved it like a club above his head.

"Get out, or I'll bash your skull in."

His face was hideous, cut and blood-stained, starved with the long
hunger and lighted with the victory. They slunk from the cabin, backing
out as if they expected him to rush them. Harrigan locked the door and
started to tend the captain. He washed McTee to the waist, cleansed the
cut places carefully, and covered them with narrow strips of adhesive
tape which he found in a small medicine chest. As the heavier breathing
of the captain indicated that he was about to recover his senses,
Harrigan performed the same services for himself. It was slow work, for
now that the stimulus of action was gone, his weakness grew on him in
recurrent waves. Finally a sound made him turn to see McTee propping
himself up on the bunk with one elbow; his eyes, unconfused and steady,
looked brightly out at Harrigan.

"You beat me?"

"It was the swing of the deck that rolled you over and broke your grip.
I've stayed to tell you that."

"Chances or no chances, you beat me."