He said no more then. When breakfast was ready, Peter relieved him at the helm, and he went below. I heard him talking to Marian, and she answered him with spirit. Though I could not distinguish her words, I was sure that she was protesting against his cruelty to me. In about half an hour he returned to the helm again, and my fair cousin followed him, either with or without his permission.

"How do you feel, Phil?" she asked, taking her place by my side again, and bathing my head with spirits, as before.

"I think my head feels a little better."

"Do you rest easily now?"

"Not very; I have to lie upon my hands or one of my arms."

"Mr. Whippleton, if you are not a brute, you will untie his hands," she continued, appealing to the skipper.

"Then I am a brute," he answered, with a coa.r.s.e grin.

"Why should you compel him to suffer pain?"

"I hope it will make him change his tone. He is as saucy and as impudent as though he were the victor and I the vanquished."

"He will not be impudent again, if you will unloose him," added Marian, in a gentle, pleading tone.

"Will he promise it?"

"You will--won't you, Philip?"

"I will promise not to say anything to him," I replied.

"He is willing to promise," continued she.

"Then I won't let him loose. He is an obstinate mule, and ready to kick the one who does him a favor. Though I have been his best friend in Chicago, he volunteers to hunt me down like a wild beast. He has his reward."

"But what are you going to do with him?" inquired Marian.

"I intend to shoot him," replied Mr. Whippleton, as he took a draught from his bottle, and then produced a revolver, with which he toyed as though it had been a pet plaything. "I am prepared for the worst, and I shall never be safe while he is above the sod."

"Would you be a murderer?" asked Marian, with horror.

"Phil says I would, and I may be obliged to verify his words."

"I did not think you were such a monster!" exclaimed my fair companion, with a shudder.

"I did not think so myself; but Phil keeps goading me on, and I don't know what I may become. If he had minded his own business, and not troubled himself about mine, he would have been safe in Chicago to-day."

"But you don't mean to kill him?"

"That will depend upon himself--and you."

"Upon me?"

"Yes, upon you, in part."

"What shall I do?"

"Sit down, Miss Collingsby, and make yourself comfortable," he continued, with a smile, as though he were rather pleased with his own reflections.

"I will say anything I can to my father, and I will induce my mother to speak for you," said she, seating herself near my head.

"I know your father better than you do, Miss Collingsby. He would be ashamed of himself to be influenced by you, or by your mother. I won't trust him till I have a hold upon him. I don't ask for any pleading in my behalf, because I know it would do no good."

"What do you wish me to do?"

"I had a rather brilliant thought just now," said he, chuckling, and looking very silly, partly from the effects of the whiskey he had drank, and partly from the nature of his own thoughts.

He paused, as though he was not quite ready to express the brilliant thought. He turned over the pistol in his hand, and glanced foolishly at Miss Collingsby.

"What can I do?" asked Marian, evidently disgusted with his manner.

"I want some security for your father's good behavior," he replied.

"I will plead with him."

"It will do no good."

"What would you have me do?"

"I think I heard you say you would not marry my friend Ben Waterford, under any circ.u.mstances."

"I certainly would not," answered Marian.

"Exactly so; I don't wish to do anything to interfere with Ben's plans, for he is a good fellow. We started from Chicago with the intention of having a wedding, and I think we ought to carry out the programme,"

laughed the skipper. "You are a very pretty girl, Miss Collingsby. As the son-in-law of your father, I think I could make a favorable settlement with him. I am only twenty-seven."

"You have said enough, sir," replied she, indignantly.

"Don't be hasty, my pretty one. If you will do me the honor to become Mrs. Whippleton, it will make everything all right; and really I don't know what else to do with you."

"Don't listen to him, Marian," I interposed, in a low tone. "Go into the cabin, and keep out of his sight."

"This plan will make everything comfortable, Miss Collingsby. Your father will see that he is mistaken, and the business of the firm will go on as usual, with your friend Phil as book-keeper at a thousand dollars a year. Will you accept?"

"No, sir."

"No?"

"Certainly not."

"Then I suppose I may as well make an end of Phil. He is only a stumbling-block in my path," added the wretch, c.o.c.king his pistol.

"Gorrificious!" exclaimed Peter, appearing at the companion-way at this moment, so opportunely as to indicate that he had been listening to the conversation. "What you goin' to do with that rewolver, Mr.

Whippleton?"