Well, the whole affair had been a considerable farce, in which I had played the most humiliating part. Indeed, but for the interposition of Barraclough I must have come out of it the butt of all shafts. As it was, I was sensitive in regard to my position, and more than once was tempted to see myself as I must have appeared to others. But after all they had not gone through the scene with Holgate, and were not witnesses to his astounding perfidy. I was angry with every one, with myself, with the captain, and, above all, with little Pye. In the universal surprise that came of the discovery of Mr. Morland’s identity, my shame, so to speak, was covered, but I felt myself the mark of ridicule, from Holgate’s cynical smile to the captain’s open neglect of me. I turned on the lawyer’s clerk in my fury, and gave him some home truths about solicitors and their ways; to which, however, he listened unabashed.

“Doctor,” said he, “do you suppose a man in my position is his own master? You are welcome to know what you will about my own affairs, but I have my professional secrets to guard. What would be thought of me had I come aboard blabbing of my firm’s clients fore and aft? It would have been a betrayal of confidence.”

There was, of course, something in this, but the argument did not allay my irritation; it merely directed it elsewhere, so that I began upon the third mate. He heard me quietly.

“Mr. Holgate can answer for himself,” he replied, “but it seems to me, if I may say so without offence, doctor, that you are misinterpreting a somewhat elaborate joke. Mr. Holgate’s explanation is reasonable enough, and besides, the only other explanation is monstrous inconceivable!”

“I agree with you,” I said shortly, “and so I say no more.”

He cast a shrewd glance at me, but made no comment.

Now, it was quite conceivable that Holgate should have made me a derisive object in the ship, but, on the contrary, he did nothing of the sort. The charge I had made against him did not leak out at the mess-table. Day, Holgate and Pye were aware of it, and so far as I know it went no further. This somewhat astonished me until I had some light thrown upon it later. But in the meantime I wondered, and insensibly that significant silence began to modify my attitude. Had he known me in the fulness of my disposition he would probably have spoken; but as it was he had other plans to follow. One of these seemed to include a reconciliation with myself. His quizzical smile disappeared, and he shook his head at me solemnly at table.

“Doctor,” said he, “that Scotchman’s head!”

“I am not a Scotchman,” I retorted impatiently.

“Well,” he breathed heavily, “I will admit it was a very bad joke.”

I was on the point of replying that it was not a joke at all, when I recovered my temper. After all, it is trying to the temper to sit opposite to a man whom you know to be a prime ruffian, however impotent his aspirations may be. Since I had unveiled his plot, even though no credence was given it, still Holgate was harmless. But, as I have already said, I am a man of precautions and I held my tongue. I think he had taken me only for a man of impulse.

“I must confess I do not see the joke,” I answered.

“Now you come to insist on it, and shed the cold light of reason on it, no more do I,” he said with a laugh. “Jokes are very well behind the footlights.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Think what a fool I look!” I said coldly.

His friendliness increased. “My dear fellow,” he said, bending over to me, “I give you my word I’ve held my tongue. I thought of that. I didn’t know you’d take it so seriously.”

“Your profession should have been the stage,” I answered.

He nodded. “Low comedian. I wish I had. They make good salaries, I believe, instead of beggarly

“Oh, you have the prince’s boodle,” I said lightly. He laughed. “So I have.”

“And I’ll be hanged if I apologise,” I said. “I have suffered enough from the mistake.”

“Quite right, doctor,” said he gravely, “I would not apologise to a bishop, let alone a third officer.”

With that apparent advance to an understanding we parted, and I did not set eyes on him again until the abrupt events that brought about the conference in the cabin.

If my personal appearance on the matter did not get out, at least the tale of the prince’s identity passed swiftly from mouth to mouth. The whole ship’s company was agog with interest, an interest which increased during the next two days. Sir John Barraclough expressed to me his opinion of Day’s behaviour very roundly, for the captain had icily withdrawn into himself, and spoke as little as possible to his first officer.

“The man’s a fool to take it this way, Phillimore,” he said. “Does he suppose it was my doing? I happened to know, but, of course, it was not my secret.”

This, too, was Pye’s excuse for silence, and it was obviously adequate. But as the baronet’s evidence of friendliness was thus betrayed in his confidence to me, I ventured on a question, which was not really inquisitive.

“Oh, well, you see I’ve known the prince off and on some time. He and I yachted together before I lost my money, and he gave me this chance. He’s a good sort.” With which bluff and British indifference he terminated the conversation.

I think that the mysterious aloofness of our passengers served to keep the interest warm. Had Mr. Morland and his party descended and been on show, so to say, before the company, it is probable that the bloom of surprise would have worn off with the contact. But they kept to themselves and the hurricane deck. Every morning and afternoon the prince and his sister took a prolonged walk together, and at times they were joined by my patient, who, however, in the better weather we were enjoying, reclined in her chair and took the sun. On these occasions Mr. Morland and his sister ceased their promenade and sat with their guest. Sometimes the full voice of Mlle. Chateray, or Trebizond, would come to us below, and occasionally her light laughter was heard, very musical to the ears.

Speculations, it is not necessary to say, were rife among us. It was known we were set for Buenos Ayres, and it was taken for granted that there the Prince was to effect his morganatic marriage. But what was to happen afterwards? We were chartered for twelve months. That bespoke a cruise, and guesses flew about the ship. Lane, the purser, was the most in evidence in these discussions. He was an excitable man with a passion for talk and company, and he offered to lay me a certain sum that we should pull up in Yokohama.

“As like as not paid off there. We’ve no contracts against it,” he said in a fume.

It was the attitude of McCrae, the chief engineer, that interested me in view of his professed opinions. He unfolded his mind to me one evening when we had been out some ten days.

“It’s like this, doctor. The man’s sheer sick of courts and barbarisms, and he’s in search of a healthy, independent life, which he needs, I’m thinking. That’s to his credit altogether. But it’s a wonderful thing, when you come to think of it, that one man like that should upset the politics of Europe, and a man that does not achieve it, mind you, but gets it by mere birth and chance. The paper said he had a million of his own. A fool could be independent on that, aye, and live healthy, too, if he weren’t too much of a fool. But what right has a man with wealth like that, I ask you? As Mr. Holgate was saying yesterday, it’s an insult to decent, hardworking men like you and me.”

“So that’s Mr. Holgate’s idea, is it?” said I, and mused. The engineer was proceeding in the strain when I saw the face of the boatswain jump suddenly into the dimness of the engine-room. It was a thin-lipped, gaunt face, lacking eyebrows, which added to the gauntness, and the general complexion was red to the shade of crimson. When his jaw was in repose it appeared as if the lower part of his face had been sucked up into the upper like a lid into its box. But now his jaw was open, disclosing a plentiful lack of teeth.

“You’re wanted, doctor,” he said, in his abrupt voice. “There’s been an accident forward.”

I left at once and followed him, asking some necessary questions.

“I don’t know exactly how it occurred,” he said in answer.

“One of the men, Adams, fell on something and it’s drilled a hole in him.”

When we reached the man’s berth he was surrounded by a number of the crew, whom I ordered off.

“If I’ve got anything to do I don’t want to be hampered,” I said, “so clear out and leave Adams to me and the boatswain.”

When the place was clear, I made an examination, and found a wound under the shoulder-blade. It was not dangerous, but might well have been so. I sent for my bag and dressed it, the boatswain looking on. All the time I made no comment, but when I had finished I turned and met the boatswain’s eyes.

“That’s a knife wound,” I said, shortly.

“Is it, sir?” he replied, and stared down at Adams. “How did it come about, Adams?” he inquired authoritatively.

“I was larking along with Gray and ran up agen him,” said the man, in a sullen voice. “I didn’t see what he ’ad in his ’and.”

“More fool you!” said the boatswain angrily. “D’ye think I can go short of men for a lot of horse-play? All right, doctor? Nothing serious?”

“No,” said I, deliberating. “If the knife was clean there’s not much harm done except that you go short of a man, as you say, for some days.”

The boatswain swore as politely as an oath can be managed.

“I’ll come in again later,” I said. “Meanwhile keep him in bed.”

But on my next visit it was manifest that the wound was not such a simple affair, for the man’s temperature had risen and he was wandering. He gave tongue to a profusion of oaths, which seemed to be directed, in the main, against Gray, but also included the boatswain, raised himself on his arm, and shook his fist in my face, muttering “my share,” and “not a brown less,” and something about “blowing the gaff.”

It was with difficulty that I completed my ministrations; but I did so, and gave the boatswain a dose to be given to the wounded man at once and another four hours later. It was entirely an involuntary omission on my part that I said nothing of returning.

Nevertheless I did return only two hours later, and just before midnight. I had had the man removed to a disused cabin, and when I got there the door was locked. Angrily I went on deck and found the boatswain.

“Pierce,” I said, “the door of the sick-room is locked. What on earth does this mean? I want to see my patient.”

“Oh, he’s all right, sir. He went to sleep quite easy. I asked one of the hands to keep an eye on him, and I suppose he’s shut the door. But it isn’t locked.”

“But it is,” I said angrily.

“The blockhead!” said the boatswain. “I’ll get the key for you, sir, if you’ll wait a minute.”

But I was not going to wait. I was making for the hatchway when I was hailed through the darkness by a voice:

“Dr. Phillimore!”

I turned, and little Pye emerged from the blackness.

“I’ve been trying to get to sleep, but I’ve got the most awful neuralgia. I wish you’d give me something for it,” said he.

“In a moment,” I said. “I’ve got to see one of the hands, and then

“Oh, come, doctor, give us a chance,” said Pye. “If you tell me what, I’ll get it myself. Look here, would a dose of chloral do any good?”

“My dear sir,” said I drily. “Every man in these days seems to be his own doctor. Try it, and if it’s only satisfactory enough, we’ll have a beautiful post-mortem to-morrow.”

“Well,” said little Pye, with a return of his native repartee, “it’s precisely because I don’t want to be my own doctor that I’ve come to you.”

That naturally was unanswerable, and I acknowledged the hit by prescribing for him. Then I went on my way.

The door was open and the boatswain was waiting. He covered a yawn as I approached.

“It was that fool, Reilly, sir,” he explained. “He mucked my instructions.”

I nodded and proceeded to examine my patient. The boatswain seemed to have spoken the truth, for the man was as quiet as a log, save for the movement of the clothes when he respired. But it was that very respiration that arrested my attention. I felt his pulse, and I took the temperature. As I moved to examine the glass, Pierce’s thin crimson face, peeping over my shoulder, almost struck upon me. The jaw was sucked into its socket. The temperature was still high, too high to allow of that placid sleep. I contemplated the thermometer meditatively. The port was shut, and the only sounds that broke the night were the dull beating of the screw and the duller wash of the waves against the side of the Sea Queen. The boatswain stood motionless behind me.

“You are right,” I said slowly. “He has gone off pretty comfortably, but I should like to see his temperature lower. However, the sleep will do him good, and I’ve no doubt I’ll find him all right in the morning.”

As I spoke I turned away with a nod and passed out of the cabin. Once on deck, I paused to consider what I should do. Two things I knew for certain: firstly, that the knife-wound was no accident, for no mere horse-play could have resulted in such a deep cut; secondly, that Adams was under the influence of a narcotic. Who had administered it and why? I recalled the man’s delirium and his wandering statements to which at the time I had paid little heed, and I thought I began to get the clue. I looked at my watch and found it half-past twelve. Every one, save those on duty, was abed, and the steamer ploughed steadily through the trough, a column of smoke swept abaft by the wind and black against the starlight. I sought my cabin, poured myself out a stiff glass of grog, and sat down to smoke and think.

At two bells I roused myself and went on deck. How singularly still was the progress of the vessel! I heard the feet of the officer on the bridge, and no other sound in all that floating house. A figure like a statue stood out in the dimness by the chart-house, and I came to a pause. It turned, and I thought I made out my friend the quartermaster.

“That you, Ellison?” I asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“I want to look at that man Adams in the forecastle,” I said. “Please accompany me, as I may need your assistance.”

I descended the ladder and went forward till I reached the cabin which I had used as a hospital, and turned the handle of the door. It opened, but the darkness was profound, and Ellison struck a match and lit the lamp. Adams lay in his bunk groaning faintly. I turned up his sleeve and examined him. The wound was inflamed, as I had expected, and it was not that which arrested me, but a mark on the arm above the elbow. It was the prick of the hypodermic syringe. My doubts were now certainties.

As we stood there Adams opened his eyes, and struggled into a sitting posture.

“No, my man,” said I, “you must keep to your back.”

He stared at me, but allowed me to force him backwards, and continued to stare.

“Adams, can you understand?” said I firmly. “Gray struck you with a knife?”

“Between the shoulders, damn him,” he growled sulkily. “Doctor, my head’s bad give me something to drink.”

I had come prepared, and I did so, and he fell back with a sigh, showing more signs of alertness.

“You quarrelled?” I suggested, but he made no answer. “Look you here, my man,” I went on sternly, “I know a good deal about this, and what you quarrelled over. It would be wiser, believe me, to be candid. Pierce had a hand in this.”

Still he was silent. I pulled from my pocket a syringe, and showed it to him.

“Do you know what that is?” I asked.

He shook his head, staring.

“Well,” said I, “it came pretty near finishing you off. You have had a heavy dose. I want to know who did it.” I caught up his arm, and thrust the puncture under his nose. He still stared.

“You were talking pretty wildly in your delirium, and had to be silenced. That was how it was done. If they can’t silence you one way they will another. How much was your share to be?”

The man’s face worked in an ugly fashion, and he was at any time a repulsive creature. The glitter in his eyes spoke of fever.

“The devil’s own,” he said hoarsely. “They wanted to cheat me of it, and I said I’d split. Damn Pierce, and Gray, and all!”

“So you were going for the prince’s cash-box, were you?” I said equably.

“It’s more than that,” said he. “There’s the treasure in the strong-room. That’s their game.”

“Now I see you are sensible,” I said, “and I can undertake to make you well and sound and happy provided you tell the truth.”

“Doctor, it burns like fire,” he groaned.

“I will see to that,” I said. “What is the plot?”

“I have cried off. That’s why I got the knife,” he said faintly. “But swear to God no harm’ll come to me.”

“I promise you that,” I said, nodding.

“It’s the boatswain’s plot,” he whispered, “and he has more’n half the men. They are going to rise ere ever we get to Buenos Ayres. But I was no party to their plans,” he continued feverishly, and as if anxious to convince me, “that’s why I’ve this knife, doctor, because I’m an honest man.”

I had more than my doubts of that, but I nodded again.

“You have only done your duty in telling me, Adams,” said I, “and I’ll keep my promise, provided you hold your tongue about this. They have given you a dose of morphia, and it’s lucky it wasn’t bigger. If you do what I tell you, we’ll have you right in a couple of days.”

I made him drink a draught I had brought with me, and, closing the door, left him. A passage led from here to the men’s quarters, and as I came out, I signed to Ellison to be noiseless, and put out the light. Then we moved towards the hatchway. When we reached it I happened to glance round at Ellison, and through that brooding darkness, lightened only by a dim swinging lamp, I thought I saw a flitting shadow. But the next swing of the boat threw the light clear into the corner, and there was nothing. We emerged on the lower deck, and thence regained the quarterdeck. There was a bright light in the chart-room, and I led the way thither. I closed the door and turned on the quartermaster. His face was grey, and his hand trembled.

“You heard?” said I.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, and hesitated. “But he’s wandering, sir, ain’t he?”

“My man,” said I, “I’m a doctor leave that much to me. I only want to know if you heard. That is all your part. No, there is one thing more. What about the hands?”

“They’re a pretty mixed lot, sir, not exactly what I would call yacht hands, but

“Were you engaged with them?” I interrupted sharply.

“No, sir, Sir John he got me on. I’ve sailed with him before.”

“Thank the Lord for that,” I said heartily, for I had begun to suspect every one. The voyage was a nightmare, I thought.

“Who is the officer in charge?” I asked.

“Mr. Legrand, sir,” said Ellison.

The second mate and I had had few exchanges. He was a reserved man, and devoted to his duty. Besides, as navigating officer he had his full share of responsibility for the safety of the ship. I moved out of the chart-house, leaving the quartermaster in a maze of bewilderment, and, I think, incredulity. The stars illumined the figure of the second officer on the bridge, and I stood in a little gust of doubt which shook me. Should I sleep over the new discovery? I had Ellison, a Didymus, for witness, but I was still sore from the reception of my previous news. I took the length of the deck, and looked over the poop where a faint trail of light spumed in the wake of the ship. Suddenly I was seized from behind, lifted by a powerful arm, and thrown violently upon the taffrail. It struck me heavily upon the thighs, and I plunged with my hands desperately in the air, lost my balance, and pitched over head foremost towards the bubbling water.

As I fell my shoulder struck the bulge of the iron carcase of the vessel, and I cannoned off into the void, but by the merest chance my clutching hands in that instant caught in the hitch of a rope which had strayed overboard. The loop ran out with my wrist in it, and I hit the water. Its roar was in my ears, but nothing else, and when I rose to the surface the ship was thirty yards away. But the rope was still over my arm, and as soon as I recovered breath I began to haul myself slowly and painfully in. As it was, I was being torn through the water at the rate of from twelve to fourteen knots an hour, and in a very few minutes the chill which my immersion had inflicted on me passed away, giving place to a curious warmth that stole throughout my limbs, and enabled me to continue the onward struggle. I drew nearer foot by foot, the sea racing past me, and burying my face constantly in floods of salt water. But I was encouraged to observe the Sea Queen was now perceptibly closer, and I clung and hauled and hauled again. My danger now was the screw, and I could hear the thumping of the steel blades below, and see the boiling pit under the stern by the vessel. If I hauled closer should I be dragged into that terrible maelstrom, and be drawn under the deadly and merciless machinery? I could see the open taffrail, through which the stars glimmered away above me. It seemed that safety was so near and yet so far. She rolled, and the lights of the port-holes flashed lanterns on the sea in that uprising. I raised my voice, helplessly, hopelessly, in a cry.

I repeated this shout three times, and then I saw a man come and hang over the taffrail. Was it the unknown murderer, and did he look for his victim to complete his abominable job? As the thought struck me I was silent, and then I saw him stoop and examine the iron stanchions at his feet. Next I felt the rope being pulled slowly in. At this I shouted again, and he ceased.

“The screw!” I called. “The screw!”

He moved away to the port side and once more the rope began to move. Gradually I reached the side of the ship, about a dozen feet to port, and five minutes later I was safe on deck.

“Good Lord, sir, what is it?” asked Ellison’s voice in terror.

“My arm is cut through, and one leg is near broken,” I gasped. “Don’t ask me more, but get me brandy.”

He returned in an incredibly short time, for if he was a man of leisurely British mind he was wonderful on his feet. I drank the raw spirit and felt better.

“Now, do you believe?” I asked him.

“You mean

“That I was knocked overboard. I knew too much,” I said sharply. “Don’t stand staring, man. We don’t know where we are, or what is afoot. Give me your arm and let us get to the bridge. Stay, have you any weapon?”

“No, sir.”

“Any available?”

“No, sir, not without waking the carpenter.”

“That is the usual British way,” said I. “Believe nothing until it happens. Nothing does happen, does it? Nothing has happened, has it, Ellison? Well, we must chance it. At least we have stout fists. We made our way under the shelter of the saloon and smoking-room, and came to the steps of the bridge. I mounted with great difficulty, and Ellison followed. Legrand turned at our appearance and surveyed us under the gleam of his lamp with astonishment.

“Mr. Legrand,” said I, “I need not ask if you have weapons available, for I’m sure you have not. But you will need them.”

“What is’t you mean?” he said sharply.

“Mutiny and murder,” said I.

He went straight to the speaking-tube without a word, and called down to the engineer’s room, “Mr. McCrae, will you personally bring me a couple of pistols, or any offensive weapon at hand. Iron bars will do at once, please.”

This was a man after my own heart. I could have embraced him. He came back to me.

“And now, doctor?”

I told him. He was silent, and then brought out a string of expletives. “I mistrusted the filthy pack from the first,” he said. “See what they give us to work with, sir the scum of Glasgow and London; and none of us to have a say in the matter. I’d sooner go to sea with Satan than scum like that,” he said fiercely. “As soon as I set eyes on them I knew we were in for it but not this,” he added, “not this by a long chalk.”

“There’s one thing to be done,” said I.

“We’ll do it now,” he replied, his fury gone as suddenly as it came, and we descended the ladder.

At the foot we met McCrae, very angry and sarcastic, wanting to know since when the deck was allowed to order the engine-room about like pot-boys, but a few words put him in possession of the facts, and I think, if any argument had been needed, my exhausted and dripping body would have sufficed.

“The old man?” said he. Legrand nodded.