"Gamble?" Mark echoed scornfully. "He has no gamble in this. The pearls are for you and me. He will know nothing whatever about them. A handful for me, and a handful for you, Joel. For the taking...."

"You did not think to give him owner's lay?" Joel asked.

"No."

"Where is this island?"

Mark laughed. "I'll not be too precise--until I have your word, Joel.

But--'tis to the northward."

"Our course is west, then south."

"Since when has the _Nathan Ross_ kept schedule and time table like a mail ship?"

Joel shook his head. "I cannot do it, Mark."

"Why not?"

"A risk I have no right to take; and wasted weeks, out of our course. For which Asa Worthen pays."

Mark smiled sardonically. "You're vastly more virtuous than any sister could be, Joel, my dear."

Joel said steadily: "There may be two minds about that. There may be two minds as to--the duty of a captain to his ship and his owner. But--I've shown you my mind in the matter."

Mark leaned toward him, eyes half-friendly. "You're wrong, Joel. I'll convince you."

"You'll not."

"A handful of them," Mark whispered. "Worth anything up to a hundred thousand. Maybe more. I do not know the little things as well as some.

All for a little jog out of your way...."

Joel shook his head. And Mark, in a sudden surge of anger, stormed to his feet with clenched hand upraised. "By the Lord, Joel, I'd not have believed it. You're mad; plain mad--sister, dear! You...."

Joel said quietly: "Your schooner is at Tubuai. I'll set you back there, if you will."

Mark mocked him. "Would you throw your own brother off the ship he captained?... Oh hard, hard heart...."

"You may stay, or go," Joel told him. "Have your way."

Mark's eyes for an instant narrowed; they turned toward the door of the cabin where Priss lay.... And there was a flicker of black hatred in them, but his voice was suave when he replied: "With your permission, captain dear, I'll stay."

Joel nodded; he rose. "Young Morrell has given you his bunk," he said.

"So--good night, to you."

He opened the door into the main cabin; and Mark, his fingers twitching, went out. He turned, spoke over his shoulder. "Good night; and--pleasant dreams," he said.

X

Even Joel Sh.o.r.e saw the new light in Priscilla's eyes when she met Mark at breakfast in the cabin next morning; and it is said husbands are the last to see such things.

That story she had heard the night before, the story Mark told Joel in the after cabin, had made of him something superhuman in her eyes. He was a gigantic, an epic figure; he had lived red life, and fought for his life, and killed.... There was Puritan blood in Priscilla; but overrunning it was a flood of warmer life, a cross-strain from some southern forebear, which sang now in answer to the touch of Mark's words.

She watched him, that morning, with wide eyes that were full of wonder and of awe.

Mark saw, and was immensely amused. He asked her: "Why do you look at me like that, little sister? I'm not going to bite...."

Priscilla caught herself, and smiled, and laughed at him. "How do I look at you? You're--imagining things, Mark."

"Am I?" he asked. And he touched Joel's arm. "Look at her, Joel, and see which of us is right."

Joel was eating his breakfast silently, but he had seen Priscilla's eyes.

He looked toward her now, and she flushed in spite of herself, and got up quickly, and slipped away.... They watched her go, Joel's eyes clouded thoughtfully, Mark's shining. And when she was gone, Mark leaned across and said to Joel softly, a devil of mischief in his eyes: "She heard my tale last night, Joel. She was not asleep. Fooled you...."

Joel shook his head. "No. She was asleep."

Mark laughed. "Don't you suppose I know. I've seen that look in woman's eyes before. In the eyes of the little brown girl, the night I dropped the fat man overside...."

He sat there, chuckling, when Joel got abruptly to his feet and went on deck; and when he came up the companion a little later, he was still chuckling under his breath.

After that first morning, Priss was able to cloak her eyes and hide her thoughts; and on the surface, life aboard the _Nathan Ross_ seemed to go on as before. Mark threw himself into the routine of the work, mixing with the men, going off in the boats when there was a whale to be struck, doing three men's share of toil. Joel one day remonstrated with him. "It is not wise," he said. "You were captain here; you are my brother. It is not wise for you to mix, as an equal, with the men."

Mark only laughed at him. "Your dignity is very precious to you, Joel,"

he mocked. "But as for me--I am not proud. You'd not have me sit aft and twiddle my thumbs and hold yarn for little Priss.... And I must be doing something...."

He and Jim Finch were much together. Finch always gave Joel careful obedience, always handled the ship when he was in charge with smooth efficiency. His boat was the best manned and the most successful of the four. But he and Joel were not comradely. Joel instinctively disliked the big man; and Finch's servility disgusted him. The mate was full of smooth and flattering words, but his eyes were shallow.

Mark talked with him long, one morning; and then he left Finch and came to Joel, by the after house, chuckling as though at some enormous jest.

"Will ye look at Finch, there?" he begged.

Joel had been watching the two. He saw Finch now, standing just forward of the boat house with flushed cheeks and eyes fixed and hands twitching.

The big man was powerfully moved by something.... "What is it that's got him?" Joel asked.

"I've told him about the pearls," Mark chuckled. "He's wild to be after them...."

Joel turned on his brother hotly. "You're mad, Mark," he snapped. "That is no word to be loose in the ship."

"I've but told Finch," Mark protested. "It's mirthful to watch the man wiggle."

"He'll tell the ship. His tongue wags unceasingly."

Mark lifted his shoulders. "Tell him to be silent. You should keep order on your ship, Joel."

Joel beckoned, and Finch came toward them. As he came, he fought for self control; and when he stood before them, his lips were twisting into something like a smile, and his eyes were shifty and gleaming. Joel said quietly:

"Mr. Finch, my brother says he has told you his story."