“What kind of play-acting is all this?” asked Old Mull, with astonished indignation. In that crisis Mayo controlled his tongue after a mighty effort to steady himself. He was prompted to obey his mood and announce his identity with all the fury that was in him. But here stood the man who had served as one of the tools of his enemies, whoever they were. For his weapon against this man Mayo had only a few words of gossip which had been dropped in an unwary moment; he realized his position; he regretted his passionate haste. He was not ready to put himself into the power of his enemies by telling this man who he was; he remembered that he was running away from the law. Bradish gaped at this intruder without seeming to understand what it all meant. “Passengers better get below out of the muss,” advised Captain Downs. “Here's a crazy nigger, mate. Grab him and tie him up.” Mayo backed to the rack at the rail and pulled out two belaying-pins, mighty weapons, one for each hand. Bradish hurried away into the depths of the house, manifestly glad to get out from underfoot. “Don't you allow those niggers to lay their hands on me,” repeated the man at bay. “Captain Downs, let me have a word to you in private.” He had desperately decided on making a confidant of one of his kind. He bitterly needed the help a master mariner could give him. “Get at him!” roared the skipper. “Go in, you niggers!” “By the gods! you'll be short-handed, sir. I'll kill 'em!” That threat was more effective than mere bluster. Captain Downs instinctively squinted aloft at the scud which was dimming the stars; he sniffed at the volleying wind. “One word to you, and you'll understand, sir!” pleaded Mayo. He put the pins back into the rack and walked straight to the captain. There was no menace in his action, and the mate did not interfere. “Just a word or two to you, sir, to show you that I have done more than throw my hat into the door of the Masters and Mates Association.” He leaned close and whispered. “Now let me tell you something else--in private?” he urged in low tones. Captain Downs glanced again at the bared arm and surveyed this sailor with more careful scrutiny. “You go around and come into the for'ard cabin through the coach-house door,” he commanded, after a little hesitation. Mayo bowed and hurried away down the lee alley. That cabin designated as the place of conference was the dining-saloon of the schooner. He waited there until Captain Downs, moving his bulk more deliberately, trudged down the main companionway and came into the apartment through its after-door which no sailor was allowed to profane. “Can anybody--in there--hear?” asked Mayo, cautiously. He pointed to the main saloon. “She's in her stateroom and he's talking through the door,” grunted the skipper. “Now what's on your mind?”