"
I was too astounded to reply. The blood upon my face and hands was plain
evidence of the wound I had received, and the captain's indifference
left me breathless. Without another word he turned and scrambled up on
deck, and I followed.
Once out of earshot of the listening crew I determined to make another
effort to show him that my conduct was justified.
"That devil was sneaking in the shadow of the galley all the evening," I
cried. "I attempted to stir him out and he jerked the knife at me."
He stopped in front of me, made one of his conversational feints by
opening his mouth and shutting it again, then dived hastily for the
companion, leaving me to search for sympathy in the moonlit night. I
remembered as I endeavoured to staunch the wound, the question which I
had put to Holman concerning the captain only an hour before, and I
smiled grimly as I bound my handkerchief about my forehead. Captain
Newmarch of _The Waif_ hadn't risen in my estimation since the moment I
made the inquiry.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER IV
THE STORM
Holman glanced inquiringly at the piece of sticking plaster above my
right eye when he met me on the deck the morning after the knife
incident, and I grinned sheepishly.
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