"You—you don't mean it," Voronoff whispered.
"I never meant anything more," Craig answered. "We can't have any slackers here. Either you go with us or you go overboard and take your chances of swimming ashore."
His voice was hard and flat and there was not the slightest trace of sympathy in it. There was no mistaking his meaning. Voronoff turned pale. He looked quickly around as though seeking a place to hide.
"You've got no hole to pull in after you now," Craig said. "What is your answer."
Voronoff gulped. "I'll—I'll go with you," he said.
"Good," Craig said. He gave swift orders for the preparation of the attacking party. The sailors scurried to do his bidding. He was aware that Michaelson was plucking at his sleeve.
"Weren't you being rather hard on him?" the scientist questioned.
"Maybe," Craig answered. "The truth is, I don't like him. There is something furtive about him. He impresses me as being pretty much of a rat. Besides, we need every man we can get."
"I know we do," Michaelson said slowly. "But would you honestly have thrown him overboard if he had refused to go?"
Craig shrugged. "Don't ask me such questions. I don't know the answers. Maybe I would and maybe I wouldn't."