"The crew, you mean?"

"Not the working crew; they are quartered in the forecastle, and are
largely English and Swede. But we have to carry extra men, who bunk
amidships--hell-hounds to fight; damn mongrels of course."

"You keep them below, all through the voyage?"

"They are allowed on deck amidships when we are at sea, but are not
encouraged to mingle with the sailors. We're over a powder magazine
all the time, Gates--any spark might set it off."

I opened one of the doors opposite, and glanced within. The interior
differed but little from that of the stateroom occupied by Estada,
except it was minus the table. No doubt they were all practically
alike.

"This will do very well," I said, quietly. "Now how about clothes?
These I wear look rather rough for the new job."

"I'll send you the steward; he'll fix you out from the slop-chest.
We're always well supplied."

I was glad to see him go and closed the door on him with a sigh of
relief. His eyes seemed to exercise a peculiar influence over me, a
snakelike charm, against which I had to constantly battle. I threw the
bundle of charts into the upper bunk, and unscrewed the glass of the
port to gain a view without, and a breath of fresh air. There was
nothing to see but a small vista of gray sea, blending into the gray
mist, and the waves on this side ran so high I was compelled to close