The girl darted a look of hate at Lund, an accusation that he met composedly, swift as the change had come from the almost reverence with which she had clasped his hand. "I'll be gone in an hour or two," said the skipper. "Got to talk while this lasts. Jim--about leavin' you that time. I could have come back. I had words about it--with Hansen. He knows. But the gale was bad, an' the ice. It wasn't the gold, Jim. I swear it. I had the ship an' crew to look out for. An' Peggy, at home. "I might have gone back sooner, Jim, I'll own up to that. But it wasn't the gold that did it. An'--I didn't hear what you shouted, Jim. The storm came up. We were frozen by the time we found the ship. Numb. "Then, then; oh, God, my heart!" He sat upright, clutching at his chest, his face convulsed with spasms of pain. Tamada got some brandy between the chattering teeth. Sweat poured out on the skipper's forehead, and he sank back, exhausted but temporarily relieved. The girl wiped his brows. "It'll get me next attack," he said presently in a weak voice. "Jim, this trouble hit me the day after we left the floe. Not sciatica, at first, but in the head. I couldn't think right. I was just numb in the brain. An' when it cleared off, it was too late. The ice had closed. We couldn't go back. I read up in my medical book, Jim, later, when the sciatica took me. "Had to take to my bunk. Couldn't stand. I had morphine, an' it relieved me. Took too much after a while. Had to have it. Got better in San Francisco for a bit. Then Carlsen prescribed it. Morphine was my boss, an' then Carlsen, he was boss of the morphine. Seemed like--seemed like--_More brandy, Tamada_." His voice was weaker when he spoke again. They came closer to catch his whispers. "Carlsen--mind wasn't my own. Peggy--I wasn't in my right mind, honey. Not when--Carlsen--he was angel when he gave me what I wanted--devil--when he wouldn't. Made me--do things. But he's dead. And I'm going. Never reach Unalaska. Peggy--forgive. Meant for best--but--not in right mind. Jim--it wasn't the gold. Not Peggy's fault--anyway." "She'll get hers, Simms," said Lund. "Yours too." The skipper's eyes closed and his frame settled under the clothes. The girl flung herself on the bed in uncontrollable weeping. Lund raised his eyebrows at Tamada, who shrugged his shoulders. "Better get out o' here," whispered Lund. He and Rainey went out together. In a few minutes Tamada joined them, his face sphinxlike as ever. "He is dead," he said. Rainey and Lund went on deck. The schooner thrashed toward the volcano, the bearing-mark for Unalaska, hidden behind it. They paced up and down in silence. "I guess he was 'Honest Simms,' after all," said Lund at last. "The gal blames me for the morphine, but Carlsen never meant him to live. She'll see that after a bit, mebbe." Rainey glanced at him curiously. He was getting fresh lights on Lund.