The last words came in a growl from the hollow of his throat. The blacksnake whirled through the air again and fell with a sharp slap like two broad hands clapped together, but Borgson did not cry out. His body writhed mutely, and down his back appeared a red mark. The whip whirled again and fell, this time bringing a stifled curse for a response. Once more it whirled, and this time merely cracked in the air. Again and again an idle snap in the air. Broken by that grim suspense, Borgson yelled in terror. Kamasura laughed and glanced at the circle of sailors like a ringmaster in a circus in search of applause. The whip now whirled rapidly over his head and fell again and again, and every stroke brought a fresh and louder scream from the mate. Another sound, rhythmic and barbarous, punctuated those shrieks of anguish. It was the singing of Kamasura, who as he wielded the lash remembered a chant of his native land and shouted it now in time with the blows of the blacksnake. On the upper deck Sloan lay prone on his face, sobbing with terror; Harrigan kept his face hid and clutched at his head with both hands; McTee stared straight down upon the scene of the torture with burning eyes. Inside the wheelhouse Kate crouched beside the bunk on which Henshaw was stretched, staring straight above his head. The fever had deprived him of the last of his senses. "Your hands!" he muttered at length. She placed them upon his forehead. She had done that repeatedly during the past day, and each time the effect had been marvelously soothing to the old man. Now at the touch he drew a deep breath of relief. "Even in hell," he whispered at length--"even in hell you come to me, Beatrice! I knew you would!" He caught her hands at the wrists; his fingers, despite his fever, were deadly cold, and a chill ate into her blood. "I hear them yelling--the souls of the damned," he said quietly. "You can't hear it?" "No, no!" she said. "I cannot hear!" "Of course not," he went on with the same lack of emotion; "for, you see, you've come from heaven, and the coolness of heaven is in your hands, Beatrice. Put them against my temples, so! For every bit of the love I have given you you are permitted to repay me with coolness-- coolness and comfort in hell!" Suddenly he broke into exultant laughter, a sound more terrible than the wild wails from the deck. "See!" he said, and his eyes twinkled as he stretched out a gaunt arm toward a corner of the room. "There's Johnny Carson lying naked on a bed of blue fire. Ha, ha, ha! Have you been waiting long for me to come, lad?" She shut out the hungry, hideous light of his eyes with the palms of her hands. Now the screaming on the deck ceased abruptly. "Beatrice!" he cried with a sudden terror. "Yes," answered Kate. "Ah," he said, and patted her hands endearingly. "When the silence came, I feared maybe you were leaving me. You won't do that?" "No. I'll stay."