RED PAWL fell forward into Black Pawl’s lap. And the Captain’s arms went around his son and held him close; and the revolver fell upon the deck at one side. Close against his breast Black Pawl held the body of the son he had killed.
The muffled crack of the revolver had shattered the stillness that compassed the schooner. The men on deck cried out, they began to shout hysterically. Dan Darrin was out of his bunk at the sound, and racing for the companion, half dressed. He burst up on deck to behold Black Pawl with his dead son in his arms. He was at Black Pawl’s side in a single leap; and at first he did not see that the Captain was hurt. He cried:
“What is it, sir?”
Black Pawl looked up at him, and he smiled; and he said quietly:
“Dan Darrin, you’re master of the Deborah!”
Dan Darrin turned pale; he was tugging at Red’s body. Black Pawl said: “Let him be; let me have him till the end, Dan.”
“What’s happened?” Dan demanded hoarsely. “What’s happened, Cap’n Pawl?”
Black Pawl looked toward where the man Spiess still knelt stolidly at his task. He said with a slow effort upon every word: “Spiess knifed me, Dan. At Red’s bidding, I’ve no doubt. But don’t log that, Dan, my boy. Spiess knifed me. And—I’ve killed my son. I shot Red Pawl. So you’ll take the ship, and take her safely home.”
Dan stared; and Black Pawl added huskily: “Take—Ruth, too, Dan Darrin. She loves you; and she’s worth your love. My Ruth!”
“Let me fix you up, sir,” Dan Darrin begged. “You’ll be all right.”