An expression of disgust and contempt showed in his face as I mentioned the names.  “I will attend to them if they try any of their tricks,” he said.

“But they are, and have been, trying their tricks,” I persisted, “and for some reason they are eager to have you know what they are up to.  Boston told me to tell you.”  I repeated Boston’s gossip.  “He knew about the spy,” I said.

He nodded.  “I know; I have had an eye upon them.  What Boston told you about the treasure is quite true; the ship is carrying specie.  And they are precious rascals, capable of any villainy; I know them well, they—­they broke jail with me.  But they have wit enough to know that their gang of stiffs could put up no sort of fight, unless backed by the sailors in the crew.  It is loot they are after, and there will be trouble from them before the ship makes port; but now we are in mid-sea, and they realize they would be quite helpless with a ship on their hands and no navigator.  That is what they want of me.  A pair of poisonous rats, Jack!

“But they will keep quiet.  They had better.  I promised them I would kill them both if they disobeyed me!”

I gazed at the big man with admiring awe.  He spoke so coolly, was so conscious of the strength and power that was in himself.  Here was the sort of man I should like to be, I thought, here was the true hard case, no bully, no ruffian, but a man, a good man, a man so hard and bright, so finely tempered, he was to the rest of us as steel to mud.  Oddly enough, as I had this thought, it also occurred to me that there was a man in the ship who might with justice claim to be Newman’s peer, another man of heroic stature—­poor meek little Holy Joe.

“If Swope does not interfere with the decent burial of that poor boy, there will be no outbreak,” added Newman.

“He will not interfere,” I was able to assure him.  I repeated the skipper’s words to Mister Lynch. “’Let the dogs dispose of their own offal!’ is what he said.”

To my surprise Newman was disturbed by this news.  He stared at me, frowning.

“Swope said that?” he exclaimed.  “Now what is he up to?”

He sat thinking for a moment, then he said: 

“The burial of Nils is the weak point in my defense.  If Swope offers an indignity to the boy’s body, even I will not be able to restrain Nils’ mates.  Surely Swope has guessed that.  I have planned to bury the lad from the foredeck just as quickly as preparations can be made; that is why Lindquist is at work on the forehatch.  If Swope is overlooking this chance, he must have something else up his sleeve.”

He got to his feet and moved toward the door.

“Lindquist must be nearly finished.  I will carry out my plan at any hazard.  Common decency demands we should not let the boy be cast into the sea by the very men who murdered him.”

At the door we were met by Olson, one of the squareheads, come to tell Newman that all was ready for the burial.  So we joined the crowd, and Nils was put away, in the dead of night, by the light of one lantern and many stars.  The hum of the wind aloft and the purr and slap of the waters against the bows were his requiem.