Crawshay held out his hand.

"Forgive me, Captain," he said, "but we want proof. Leave it to me,
and if things are as I suspect, we'll have that proof--probably before
to-morrow morning," he added, glancing at the chart.

There was a call down the deck, a knock at the door. The captain took
up his oilskins regretfully.

"You will remember," Crawshay enjoined, "that little mandate I showed
you?"

The captain nodded grimly.

"I am in your hands," he admitted. "Don't forget that the safety of
the ship may be in your hands, too!"

"Perhaps," Crawshay whispered, "even more than the safety of the
ship."




CHAPTER IX


Robins, the wireless operator, bent closer over his instrument, and
the blue fires flashed from the masthead of the steamer, cutting their
way through the darkness into the black spaces beyond. The little room