But I didn't sleep. I lay there thinking about the face I had seen. Nils' shadow, Nils' clothes—and the lady's face! The ghost that had scared all hands was the lady dressed in Nils' clothes!
CHAPTER XVII
The lady brought Newman bad news. As I afterwards learned, the steward overheard a conversation between the captain and the mate, and reported it to her, and she immediately risked her masquerade forward to carry the tale to Newman.
During the morning Newman said to me, "Watch your step to-day, Jack.
Trouble brewing."
I watched my step, but not until the middle of the afternoon watch, when I went aft to relieve Newman at the wheel, did I see any indications of a coming breach of the afterguard's own peace. I sensed it then, before I saw it. Aye, as soon as I stepped upon the poop I smelled the old air. The very carriage of the officers said that the old times were back again.
Newman gave me the course. I repeated it aloud, as is the custom.
Then he whispered, hurriedly.
"I think he intends to lock me up. Help Deakin keep peace for'ard.
Remember, lad, my life—and hers—may depend upon it."
He started forward. I wanted to call after him, run after him, ask him a score of questions and directions.
But I was chained to my task. I dare not leave the wheel. Neither dare I call out. For Captain Swope had appeared on deck. He stood lounging against the companion hatch, staring aft, in our direction. Bucko Fitzgibbon stood by his side. They had suddenly appeared from below as the helm was changing hands.
Aye, and as soon as I clapped eyes upon them I knew that at last hell was about to bubble over. They had thrown off the masks of meekness that so ill fitted them. Fitzgibbon was truculence personified. The expression in Swope's face when he looked at Newman was so terrible it might almost of itself make a lad stop breathing—an expression of gloating, pitiless, triumphant cruelty.