assented gravely.

"It seems a little brutal but it is common sense," he declared. "In
times of great stress, too, one becomes primitive, and the primitive
instinct is for the strong to save himself. I am not ashamed to
confess," he concluded, "that I have secured an extra lifebelt."

Jocelyn glanced, for a moment scornfully down at the man who had now
picked up his novel again and was busy reading. Crawshay represented
so much the things that he despised in life. It was impossible to
treat or consider him in any way as a rival to be feared. He passed
down the deck and made his way below to the doctor's room. He found
the latter in the act of starting off to see a patient.

"I came around to ask after Robins, the young Marconi man," Jocelyn
explained. "I hear that he was taken ill last night."

The doctor looked at his questioner keenly.

"That is so," he admitted.

"What's wrong with him?"

"I have not thoroughly diagnosed his complaint as yet," was the
careful reply. "I can tell you for a certainty, though, that he will
not be able to work for two or three days."

"It seems very sudden," Jocelyn Thew persisted.

"As a matter of fact, I had some slight acquaintance with him, and I