"I'm dying," went on Sloan eagerly and still in that slavering voice. "I'm burnin' up inside. For God's sake let 'em take him and finish him off!" And always as he spoke his quick eyes went back and forth from face to face. They had neither eye nor voice for him. They turned their attention back to Hovey, who now spoke again hastily. "But if you don't give us Henshaw, we'll take him, anyway. In one more day--or maybe two at the most--we'll come an' get you--understand? An' what we'll do to you when we get you will be this!" He gestured over his shoulder. Eric Borgson was being led out on the deck by some of the crew. "Look him over, Cap'n McTee. He's a big man, an' we're goin' to kill him by inches. So we're goin' to finish Van Roos--the same way. Speak out, lads; d'you want to die like these two are goin' to die, or will you turn over Henshaw--who needs killin'?" McTee smiled benevolently down upon the upturned, furious faces of the mutineers, and muttered: "Harrigan, I could drink blood." "An' lick your lips afther it," groaned the Irishman softly. "An' so could I, Angus! They're startin' their devil work. Let's go inside. I can't be standing the sight of it, McTee." "Go inside an' let 'em rush the wireless house?" said McTee incredulously. "No, lad. We _got_ to stay an' watch. Besides, maybe this is the way we'll all die--after we're too weak to fight 'em. And I'm rather curious to learn just how I'll die; I've always been!" They were binding Borgson face down on the hatch. "Look," said Harrigan. "Maybe it ain't goin' to be so bad as we thought. They're just goin' to lick Borgson the way he licked the Jap." "They'll do more," replied McTee, shaking his head. "Henshaw and Borgson and Van Roos have really put those wild men through hell, and now they're going to get it back with interest." In the meantime little Kamasura stepped out from the crowd. He was naked to the waist, for the raw incisions which the lash had left would not bear the weight of clothes. He carried the blacksnake in his hands, drawing it caressingly through his hands as Borgson had done. Now the tying of Borgson was completed, and the sailors spread back in a loose circle to watch their entertainment. The Japanese took his distance carefully, shifting repeatedly a matter of inches to make sure that no stroke would be wasted. Then he whirled the blacksnake over his head. They could see Borgson wince as the lash sang above him, and the muscles of his bare back flexed and stood up in knots that glistened under the sunlight. But the stroke did not fall. Kamasura had learned the lesson of creating suspense from the very man he was now about to torture. Harrigan bowed his head in his hands. "I can't look, McTee," he muttered. "I'm sick inside--sick--sick!"