BARTLETT--Wait! There’s somethin’ else I want to ask ye. Nat, he’s been hangin’ round the schooner all his spare time o’ late. I seen him talkin’ to you and Cates and Jimmy. [_With rising anger._] I hope ye’ve remembered what I ordered ye, all three. Not a word o’ it to him! I said I’d keep him out o’ this, for his own good, mind! And if I thought any of ye---- [_His fist is raised threateningly, and he glares savagely at Horne._] HORNE--[_Retreating a step--hastily._] No fear o’ that, sir! We’ve been keerful. But it’s hard. He’s a sharp one, Nat is. And when we tells him the schooner’s fitted out for tradin’ in the islands, he just laughs. He’s gettin’ the wind on somethin’--without any o’ us sayin’ a word. BARTLETT--[_In relieved tones._] Let him s’spect all he’s a mind to--as long as he don’t know. It ain’t that I’m afeerd to tell him o’ the gold, Silas Horne. He’ll share that, anyway. [_Slowly._] It’s them--other things--I’d keep him clear of. HORNE--[_Immediately guessing what he means--reassuringly._] We was all out o’ our heads with thirst and sun when them things happened, sir. BARTLETT--Mad? Aye! But I ain’t forgot--them two. [_Harshly._] I’d rather be you nor me, Silas Horne. You be too rotten bad to care. And I’d rather be Cates or Jimmy. Cates be too dull to remember, and Jimmy be proud as a boy o’ what he done. [_He represses a shudder--then goes on slowly._] Do they ever come back to you--when you’re asleep, I mean? HORNE--[_Pretending mystification._] Who’s that, sir? BARTLETT--[_With sombre emphasis._] That cook and that boy. They come to me. I’m gettin’ to be afeered o’ goin’ to sleep--not ’feered o’ them, I don’t mean. [_With sudden defiant bravado._] Not all the ghosts out o’ hell kin keep me from a thing I’ve set my mind on. [_Collecting himself._] But I’ve waked up talkin’ out loud--to them--and I’m afeerd there might be someone hear me. That’s why I’ve been sleepin’ down here to the boat-house all alone. HORNE--[_Uneasily--with an attempt to be reassuring._] You ain’t all cured o’ that sun and thirst on the island yet, sir. BARTLETT--[_Evidently reassured--roughly._] O’ course! D’ye think I’d really believe in things in nightmares? [_With an attempt at conviviality._] Sit down a bit, Horne, and take a grog. [HORNE _does so_. BARTLETT _pours out a half-tumbler full of rum for himself and shoves the bottle over to_ HORNE.] HORNE--Luck to our vige, sir. BARTLETT--Aye, luck! [_They drink._ BARTLETT _leans over and taps_ HORNE _on the arm_.] Aye, it takes time to get cured o’ thirst and sun! Lucky that tradin’ schooner picked us up the time she did. HORNE--If she hadn’t--we’d been as dead men--as them two. BARTLETT--[_Somberly--after a pause._] I spoke no word, Silas Horne, d’ye remember?