"Henshaw has made up his mind to give Kamasura the whip. You know what that means? Well, I'll tell you. It means that after the first dozen strokes—as Borgson will lay them on—Kamasura will break down and tell everything we don't want him to say. Understand? With the cabin warned of what we're going to do, what chance would we have to take them? So we'll hang around close, lads, and the minute Kamasura opens his face to say the wrong thing, we'll rush 'em—are you with me? And go for two men first—Black McTee and Harrigan. With them out of the way we'll simply chew up the rest. Try to take the others alive, but don't waste any time with McTee and the Irishman. You can lay to it before you start that they'll never be taken till they're dead."
For some minutes he talked on, appointing to each man or group of men the work he would be expected to perform when Hovey gave the signal to attack, which would be one long blast on his whistle.
While they planned, Harrigan had reached the bridge and found McTee impatiently awaiting him.
"You're late," frowned the Scotchman. "What's happened in the forecastle?"
"Black looks on all sides, and no talk," said Harrigan.
"A falling barometer," nodded McTee, "and things are just as bad in the cabin. You've heard about the wireless breaking?"
"I have. What does it mean?"
"It may have been done by the mutineers. I doubt it. But that isn't all that's happened. This is a pretty cool day for the tropics."
Harrigan stared at him, baffled by the sudden change of the conversation.
"It is cool," he assented.