Captain West intends to pass if the wind favours.

The other episode occurred last night. Mr. Pike says nothing, yet he
knows the crew situation. I have been watching some time now, ever
since the death of Marinkovich; and I am certain that Mr. Pike never
ventures on the main deck after dark. Yet he holds his tongue,
confides in no man, and plays out the bitter perilous game as a
commonplace matter of course and all in the day's work.

And now to the episode. Shortly after the close of the second dog-
watch last evening I went for'ard to the chickens on the 'midship-
house on an errand for Margaret. I was to make sure that the steward
had carried out her orders. The canvas covering to the big chicken
coop had to be down, the ventilation insured, and the kerosene stove
burning properly. When I had proved to my satisfaction the
dependableness of the steward, and just as I was on the verge of
returning to the poop, I was drawn aside by the weird crying of
penguins in the darkness and by the unmistakable noise of a whale
blowing not far away.

I had climbed around the end of the port boat, and was standing
there, quite hidden in the darkness, when I heard the unmistakable
age-lag step of the mate proceed along the bridge from the poop. It
was a dim starry night, and the Elsinore, in the calm ocean under the
lee of Tierra del Fuego, was slipping gently and prettily through the
water at an eight-knot clip.

Mr. Pike paused at the for'ard end of the housetop and stood in a
listening attitude. From the main deck below, near Number Two hatch,
across the mumbling of various voices, I could recognize Kid Twist,