But an effort must be made to get rid of this womanly fear; why should
he yield to this? Surely there were other thoughts which he might call
to his mind. There came over him the memory of that villain who had cast
him here, who now was exulting in his fancied success and bearing back
to his master the news. There came to him the thought of his father, and
his wrongs, and his woe. There came to his memory his father's dying
words summoning him to vengeance. There came to him the thought of those
who yet lived and suffered in England, at the mercy of a pitiless enemy.
Should he falter at a superstitious fancy, he--who, if he lived, had so
great a purpose?

All superstitious fancy faded away. The thirst for revenge, the sense of
intolerable wrong arose. Fear and horror died out utterly, destroyed by
Vengeance.

"The Presence, then, is my ally," he murmured. "I will go and face It."

And he walked resolutely, with a firm step, back into the cabin.

Yet even then it needed all the new-born resolution which he had
summoned up, and all the thought of his wrong, to sustain him as he
entered that inner room. Even then a sharp thrill passed through him,
and bodily weakness could only be sustained by the strong, resolute,
stubborn soul.

[Illustration: "THERE SEEMED A GHASTLY COMICALITY IN SUCH A THING AS
THIS," ETC.]

The room was about the size of the captain's. There was a table against