pair of eyes that struck him as resembling those he had once seen in the
head of a mad dog. Their owner turned away at once and crossed the deck.

"That must have been the lover!" he whispered over to the other, as he
set to work with his adze upon the pencilled plank. Shortly after he
muttered in a tone of compunction--

"If I saw that physiognomy aright, some one had better take care of
himself when he gets leave ashore."

Salvé had sprung to his feet in a fury when he heard about young Beck,
but the desire to hear more had kept him spellbound. What further had
been hinted of his relations with Elizabeth, and that the latter had
even taken refuge in his house, seemed all only too probable. He knew
both the men who had been speaking; they were respectable folks, and the
one besides had had the news from the aunt herself.

There was hard work that day on board, but his hands were as if they had
been benumbed. It was impossible for him to give any assistance, except
in appearance, when any hauling was to be done;--he did everything
mechanically.

"Are you sick, lad, or longing after your sweetheart?" said the mate to
him in the course of the afternoon. He saw that there was something
wrong with him.

That last, "after your sweetheart," had a wonderfully rousing influence.
He felt himself all at once relieved of his heavy feeling of exhaustion,
and worked now so hard that the perspiration poured down his face,
joining in the hauling song from time to time with a wild, unnatural