“He’s a good man, none better,” said Chips, still talking about Lynch, “but he’s too soft for a bucko’s job in this wagon.”

“Five years; good God!  The prison was heaven compared to what you have lived through.  Oh, my poor darling!  And he—­the vile brute——­”

“No, no, not that attitude!  You have promised—­” exclaimed the lady.

“He’s not soft,” Sails disputed with Chips.  “He’s as hard as they’re made.  But he’s a square-shooter, Lynch is, and the rest o’ us ain’t.  That makes the difference.  Now we got good reasons to do anything the skipper says, we being what we are, and him being what he is, and we knowing he can turn us up, and will, if we don’t suit.  But Jim Lynch—­not Swope, or any other man, has a hold on him.”

“No man, maybe,” says Chips.  “But in the other quarter, now.  If Lynch ain’t soft there, I’m a soldier.”

“Who ain’t a bit soft in that quarter?” Sails demanded.  “I’m mighty sorry for her, same as you are, same as everyone is, save Fitz.  If it wasn’t that Swope has me body and soul, I’d side with Lynch, b’Gawd, in anything he wanted to start.”

“Shut up!” exclaimed Chips.  “That’s damn fool talk to come out o’ your mouth.”

“Oh, you have softened me, Mary, you have unmanned me!” I heard Newman say.  “I came to this ship to kill, and now—­there is little bitterness left in my heart.  I am only eager now to be gone with you beyond his reach.”

“I am glad, more glad than I can tell,” the lady told him.  “His lies have ruined your life, and mine, but I do not want you to stain your hands with his blood.  Oh, there has been so much bloodshed!  You must not; you have promised!”

“Yes, and I will keep my promise,” said Newman.  “But you have promised, too, and you know how I qualified my promise.  We cannot take too many chances with him, and you know that he has no scruples about shedding blood.  He knows, he must know, that I do not intend to leave you in his hands; he must realize, also, that now he is not safe so long as either of us is alive and at large.  Why, dear, you know the trap he is preparing!”

“Yes, yes, I know,” was the response.  “But my prayer is that we may get away before he is ready.”

“It is my prayer, too,” said Newman.  “I gladly give up my revenge for your sake, little love.  But I intend to protect you, and myself—­that, too, is my promise.”

“Here comes Fitz now,” said Sails.

It was touch-and-go with discovery a second time as Mister Fitzgibbon stamped down the ladder.  But he was already bawling for the watch, and had his eyes fixed straight ahead; and immediately he went forward with the tradesmen at his heels.

I waited until the mate’s bellow sounded well forward, and I was sure my retreat would be unobserved.  Then I placed my lips to the opening in the sail-locker door and called softly, “Newman!  Come out of that at once; you are spied upon!”