than the occasional creak with which it rocked in its davits.

The lifeboat seemed to be indicated by the cross. It swung almost
shoulder-high on McWhirter. We looked under and around it, with a
growing feeling that we had misread the significance of the crosses,
or that the sinister record extended to a time before the "she devil"
of the Turner line was dressed in white and turned into a lady.

I was feeling underneath the boat, with a sense of absurdity that
McWhirter put into words. "I only hope," he said, "that the
watchman does not wake up now and see us. He'd be justified in
filling us with lead, or putting us in straitjackets."

But I had discovered something.

"Mac," I said, "some one has been at this boat within the last few
minutes."

"Why?"

"Take your revolver and watch the deck. One of the barecas--"

"What's that?"

"One of the water-barrels has been upset, and the plug is out. It
is leaking into the boat. It is leaking fast, and there's only a
gallon or so in the bottom! Give me the light."

The contents of the boat revealed the truth of what I had said.
The boat was in confusion. Its cover had been thrown back, and tins