"All trips on the _Mary Rogers_ is hard," rumbled a voice.

"Aye, but Black McTee is blacker'n ever today."

"He belted the bos'n with a rope end," commented the Negro.

"He ain't human. This is my last trip with him. How about you, John?
You got a lump on your jaw yet where he cracked you for breakin' that
truck."

This was to the Chinaman, who answered in a soft guttural as if there
were bubbling oil in his throat: "Me sail two year Black McTee, an'--"

To finish his speech he passed a tentative hand across his swollen jaw.

"And you'll sail with him till you die, John," said the Englishman.
"When a man has had Black McTee for a boss, he'll want no other. He's
to other captains what whisky is to beer."

The white teeth of the Negro showed. "Maybe Black McTee won't live
long," he suggested.

There was a long silence. It lasted until the supper was finished. It
lasted until the men slid into their bunks. And Harrigan knew that
every man was repeating slowly to himself: "Maybe Black McTee won't
live long."

"Not if this gang goes after him," muttered Harrigan, "and yet--"

He remembered the fight in Ivilei and the heaving shoulders which