“Then we’re all clear.” She suddenly straightened, a look of unswervable intent in her face. “McNab, it’s better to make some one—violently mad at you—isn’t it, if maybe you can save him from trouble? If you want to see him get ahead and make a success of a big venture—it isn’t wrong, is it, to do something against his will that you know is right?”
McNab looked at her as before now he had looked at strong men with whom he had stood the watch. “What are you gettin’ at?”
His voice was gruff, but it didn’t offend her. She felt that they were on common ground.
“If may be human lives are the stake, a person can’t stand by for one man’s anger,” she went on.
“Human lives are the first consideration,” the man answered. “That’s the rule of the sea. Most sea rules are good rules—built on sense—all except the one that you can’t take the wheel away from a drunken captain. What’s your idea?”
“You know as well as I do. I promised his father before I left that I’d look after Ned. He was in earnest—and Ned needs looking after now if he ever did. Mr. Cornet won’t blame me, either. Show me how to get down in the hold.”
McNab suddenly chuckled and patted her on the back with rough familiarity, yet with fervent companionship. “You’ve got the stuff,” he said. “But you can’t lift them alone. I’m with you till the last dog is hung.”
X
On the exposed deck the storm met the two adventurers with a yell. For the first time Bess knew its full fury, as the wind buffeted her, and the sleet swept like fine shot into her face. They clung to the railing, then fought their way to the hold.
Hidden by the darkness and the sleet, no one saw them carry up the heavy liquor cases and drop them into the sea. The noise of the storm concealed the little sound they made. Finally only two bottles remained, the last of a broken case.