I knew what it was as she came toward me. For ten minutes I had watchedher talking earnestly with the engineer, and now, with a sign forsilence, I drew her out of earshot of the helmsman. Her face was whiteand set; her large eyes, larger than usual what of the purpose in them,looked penetratingly into mine. I felt rather timid and apprehensive,for she had come to search Humphrey Van Weyden’s soul, and Humphrey VanWeyden had nothing of which to be particularly proud since his advent onthe _Ghost_.

We walked to the break of the poop, where she turned and faced me. Iglanced around to see that no one was within hearing distance.

“What is it?” I asked gently; but the expression of determination on herface did not relax.

“I can readily understand,” she began, “that this morning’s affair waslargely an accident; but I have been talking with Mr. Haskins. He tellsme that the day we were rescued, even while I was in the cabin, two menwere drowned, deliberately drowned—murdered.”

There was a query in her voice, and she faced me accusingly, as though Iwere guilty of the deed, or at least a party to it.

“The information is quite correct,” I answered. “The two men weremurdered.”

“And you permitted it!” she cried.

“I was unable to prevent it, is a better way of phrasing it,” I replied,still gently.

“But you tried to prevent it?” There was an emphasis on the “tried,” anda pleading little note in her voice.

“Oh, but you didn’t,” she hurried on, divining my answer. “But whydidn’t you?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “You must remember, Miss Brewster, that you area new inhabitant of this little world, and that you do not yet understandthe laws which operate within it. You bring with you certain fineconceptions of humanity, manhood, conduct, and such things; but here youwill find them misconceptions. I have found it so,” I added, with aninvoluntary sigh.

She shook her head incredulously.

“What would you advise, then?” I asked. “That I should take a knife, ora gun, or an axe, and kill this man?”

She half started back.

“No, not that!”

“Then what should I do? Kill myself?”

“You speak in purely materialistic terms,” she objected. “There is sucha thing as moral courage, and moral courage is never without effect.”

“Ah,” I smiled, “you advise me to kill neither him nor myself, but to lethim kill me.” I held up my hand as she was about to speak. “For moralcourage is a worthless asset on this little floating world. Leach, oneof the men who were murdered, had moral courage to an unusual degree. Sohad the other man, Johnson. Not only did it not stand them in goodstead, but it destroyed them. And so with me if I should exercise whatlittle moral courage I may possess.

“You must understand, Miss Brewster, and understand clearly, that thisman is a monster. He is without conscience. Nothing is sacred to him,nothing is too terrible for him to do. It was due to his whim that I wasdetained aboard in the first place. It is due to his whim that I amstill alive. I do nothing, can do nothing, because I am a slave to thismonster, as you are now a slave to him; because I desire to live, as youwill desire to live; because I cannot fight and overcome him, just as youwill not be able to fight and overcome him.”

She waited for me to go on.

“What remains? Mine is the role of the weak. I remain silent and sufferignominy, as you will remain silent and suffer ignominy. And it is well.It is the best we can do if we wish to live. The battle is not always tothe strong. We have not the strength with which to fight this man; wemust dissimulate, and win, if win we can, by craft. If you will beadvised by me, this is what you will do. I know my position is perilous,and I may say frankly that yours is even more perilous. We must standtogether, without appearing to do so, in secret alliance. I shall not beable to side with you openly, and, no matter what indignities may be putupon me, you are to remain likewise silent. We must provoke no sceneswith this man, nor cross his will. And we must keep smiling faces and befriendly with him no matter how repulsive it may be.”

She brushed her hand across her forehead in a puzzled way, saying, “StillI do not understand.”

“You must do as I say,” I interrupted authoritatively, for I saw WolfLarsen’s gaze wandering toward us from where he paced up and down withLatimer amidships. “Do as I say, and ere long you will find I am right.”

“What shall I do, then?” she asked, detecting the anxious glance I hadshot at the object of our conversation, and impressed, I flatter myself,with the earnestness of my manner.

“Dispense with all the moral courage you can,” I said briskly. “Don’tarouse this man’s animosity. Be quite friendly with him, talk with him,discuss literature and art with him—he is fond of such things. You willfind him an interested listener and no fool. And for your own sake tryto avoid witnessing, as much as you can, the brutalities of the ship. Itwill make it easier for you to act your part.”

“I am to lie,” she said in steady, rebellious tones, “by speech andaction to lie.”

Wolf Larsen had separated from Latimer and was coming toward us. I wasdesperate.

“Please, please understand me,” I said hurriedly, lowering my voice.“All your experience of men and things is worthless here. You must beginover again. I know,—I can see it—you have, among other ways, been usedto managing people with your eyes, letting your moral courage speak outthrough them, as it were. You have already managed me with your eyes,commanded me with them. But don’t try it on Wolf Larsen. You could aseasily control a lion, while he would make a mock of you. He would—Ihave always been proud of the fact that I discovered him,” I said,turning the conversation as Wolf Larsen stepped on the poop and joinedus. “The editors were afraid of him and the publishers would have noneof him. But I knew, and his genius and my judgment were vindicated whenhe made that magnificent hit with his ‘Forge.’”

“And it was a newspaper poem,” she said glibly.

“It did happen to see the light in a newspaper,” I replied, “but notbecause the magazine editors had been denied a glimpse at it.”

“We were talking of Harris,” I said to Wolf Larsen.

“Oh, yes,” he acknowledged. “I remember the ‘Forge.’ Filled with prettysentiments and an almighty faith in human illusions. By the way, Mr. VanWeyden, you’d better look in on Cooky. He’s complaining and restless.”

Thus was I bluntly dismissed from the poop, only to find Mugridgesleeping soundly from the morphine I had given him. I made no haste toreturn on deck, and when I did I was gratified to see Miss Brewster inanimated conversation with Wolf Larsen. As I say, the sight gratifiedme. She was following my advice. And yet I was conscious of a slightshock or hurt in that she was able to do the thing I had begged her to doand which she had notably disliked.