The Greek, who had drawn his sheath knife, dashed it down upon the cabin floor and extended his hand to the second mate.
"I take it back, Barradas. You are no coward, you are brave man. We are all good comrada. I never mean to insult you."
Barradas took his hand sullenly. "Well, there you are, Paul. But I say again, I want no more of this bloody work;" and then looking first at Rawlings, then at the Greek, and then at Warner, his dark; lowering face quivered, "come, let us understand each other. I swear to you both, by the Holy Virgin, that I will be true to you, but this man must not be hurt. Sometimes in the night I see the face of that girl, and I see the face of Tracey, and I see and feel myself in hell——"
Warner laughed hoarsely, but Rawlings' foot pressed that of the Greek.
"There, that will do, Manuel; let us say no more about it. I yield to you. We must take our chances."
Barradas sighed with relief, and held out his hand to Rawlings.
"You won't play me false?" he inquired.
"I swear it," said Rawlings, first pressing the Greek's foot again, and then standing up and grasping his officer's hand.
"And I too," said the Greek, extending his own dirty, ring-covered paw; "as you say, he is a good man, and perhaps he can do us no harm. And we mus' all be good comrada—eh? Come, Mr. Warner, let us all joina the hand."
Then, after drinking together in amity, they separated.