"I am glad," she answered, simply, "for your sake, and perhaps for my own, for I, too, it seems, am in his power."
He answered her as he could, incoherently and meaninglessly, but she went to her room and closed the door.
CHAPTER IX
Down the wardroom companion came Forsythe, followed by Sampson, who edged alongside of him as he peered into the after compartment, where Denman sat on the transom.
"What do you want down here with me?" asked Forsythe, in a snarl, as he looked sidewise at Sampson.
"To see that you act like a man," answered the big machinist. "There's a sick woman here."
"And a more or less sick man," answered Forsythe, "that if I hadn't made sick would ha' had you in irons. Get up on deck. All I want is a chronometer."
"Under the circumstances," rejoined Sampson, coolly, "though I acknowledge your authority as far as governing this crew is concerned, when it comes to a sick woman defended only by a wounded officer, I shift to the jurisdiction of the officer. If Lieutenant Denman asks that I go on deck, I will go. Otherwise, I remain."
"Wait," said Denman, weakly, for he had lost much blood. "Perhaps Forsythe need not be antagonized or coerced. Forsythe, do you remember a little girl at home named Florrie Fleming? Well, that woman is she. I appeal to whatever is left of your boyhood ideals to protect this woman, and care for her."
"Yes, I remember her," answered Forsythe, with a bitter smile. "She thought you were a little tin god on wheels, and told me after you'd gone that you'd come back and thrash me. You didn't, did you?" His speech ended in a sneer.