among the ledges of the cliff.

'That will do, Huish,' said Herrick.

'Oh, so you tyke his part, do you? you stuck-up sneerin' snob! Tyke it

then. Come on, the pair of you. But as for John Dyvis, let him look out!

He struck me the first night aboard, and I never took a blow yet but

wot I gave as good. Let him knuckle down on his marrow bones and beg my

pardon. That's my last word.'

'I stand by the Captain,' said Herrick. 'That makes us two to one, both

good men; and the crew will all follow me. I hope I shall die very soon;

but I have not the least objection to killing you before I go. I should

prefer it so; I should do it with no more remorse than winking. Take

care--take care, you little cad!'

The animosity with which these words were uttered was so marked in

itself, and so remarkable in the man who uttered them that Huish stared,

and even the humiliated Davis reared up his head and gazed at his

defender. As for Herrick, the successive agitations and disappointments

of the day had left him wholly reckless; he was conscious of a pleasant

glow, an agreeable excitement; his head seemed empty, his eyeballs

burned as he turned them, his throat was dry as a biscuit; the least

dangerous man by nature, except in so far as the weak are always

dangerous, at that moment he was ready to slay or to be slain with equal

unconcern.

The Ebb-Tide