people, of course. They haven't done anything for that either. A fellow
comes along with a bag of gold... I haven't been in Rotterdam my last
voyage for nothing.'

"'You may be able to tell something interesting, then, to our people
when you come into port,' interjected the officer.

"I might. But you keep some people in your pay at Rotterdam. Let them
report. I am a neutral--am I not?... Have you ever seen a poor man
on one side and a bag of gold on the other? Of course, I couldn't be
tempted. I haven't the nerve for it. Really I haven't. It's nothing to
me. I am just talking openly for once.'

"'Yes. And I am listening to you,' said the commanding officer, quietly.

"The Northman leaned forward over the table. 'Now that I know you have
no suspicions, I talk. You don't know what a poor man is. I do. I am
poor myself. This old ship, she isn't much, and she is mortgaged, too.
Bare living, no more. Of course, I wouldn't have the nerve. But a man
who has nerve! See. The stuff he takes aboard looks like any other
cargo--packages, barrels, tins, copper tubes--what not. He doesn't see
it work. It isn't real to him. But he sees the gold. That's real. Of
course, nothing could induce me. I suffer from an internal disease. I
would either go crazy from anxiety--or--or--take to drink or something.
The risk is too great. Why--ruin!'

"'It should be death.' The commanding officer got up, after this curt
declaration, which the other received with a hard stare oddly combined
with an uncertain smile. The officer's gorge rose at the atmosphere of
murderous complicity which surrounded him, denser, more impenetrable,