Skipper Simms did as Theriere had requested, so that presently the officer stood alone beside the hatch.  Across the deck, amidships, the men had congregated to watch Theriere’s operations, while beyond them stood Barbara Harding held fascinated by the grim tragedy that was unfolding before her upon this accursed vessel.

Theriere leaned over the open hatch, in full view of the waiting Byrne, ready below.  There was the instant report of a firearm and a bullet whizzed close past Theriere’s head.

“Avast there, Byrne!” he shouted.  “It’s I, Theriere.  Don’t shoot again, I want to speak to you.”

“No monkey business now,” growled the mucker in reply.  “I won’t miss again.”

“I want to talk with you, Byrne,” said Theriere in a low tone.  “I’m coming down there.”

“No you ain’t, cul,” returned Byrne; “leastways yeh ain’t a-comin’ down here alive.”

“Yes I am, Byrne,” replied Theriere, “and you don’t want to be foolish about it.  I’m unarmed.  You can cover me with your gun until you have satisfied yourself as to that.  I’m the only man on the ship that can save your life—­the only man that has any reason to want to; but we’ve got to talk it over and we can’t talk this way where there’s a chance of being overheard.  I’ll be on the square with you if you will with me, and if we can’t come to terms I’ll come above again and you won’t be any worse off than you are now.  Here I come,” and without waiting for an acceptance of his proposition the second officer of the Halfmoon slipped over the edge of the hatchway and disappeared from the sight of the watchers above.

That he was a brave man even Billy Byrne had to admit, and those above who knew nothing of the relations existing between the second mate and the sailor, who had so recently felled him, thought that his courage was little short of marvelous.  Theriere’s stock went up by leaps and bounds in the estimation of the sailors of the Halfmoon, for degraded though they were they could understand and appreciate physical courage of this sort, while to Barbara Harding the man’s act seemed unparalleled in its utter disregard of the consequences of life and death to himself that it entailed.  She suddenly was sorry that she had entertained any suspicions against Theriere—­so brave a man could not be other than the soul of honor, she argued.

Once below Theriere found himself covered by his own revolver in the hands of a very desperate and a very unprincipled man.  He smiled at Byrne as the latter eyed him suspiciously.

“See here, Byrne,” said Theriere.  “It would be foolish for me to say that I am doing this for love of you.  The fact is that I need you.  We cannot succeed, either one of us, alone.  I think you made a fool play when you hit me today.  You know that our understanding was that I was to be even a little rougher with you than usual, in order to avoid suspicion being attached to any seeming familiarity between us, should we be caught conferring together.  I had the chance to bawl you out today, and I thought that you would understand that I was but taking advantage of the opportunity which it afforded to make it plain to Miss Harding that there could be nothing other than hatred between us—­it might have come in pretty handy later to have her believe that.