"'Tis Henry Crane," Peter whispered, and his close-shut fists showed an emotion his face concealed. "He is jealous that the ship was given to Bangs rather than to him, and he and some of his fellows--his old crew--are threatening mischief." "Fool, to risk his neck and liberty for a damnable vanity!" Rising, Richard crossed to the group of players, and sinking down upon the deck gathered the dice into his hand as though to take part in the sport. "I play to win; and the man who fouls my game--for any cause whatsoever--has me to answer to," he said with stern emphasis, his fearless eyes fixed steadily on Crane's face. The man flushed and began to mumble an answer, but the guard, passing, said sharply:-- "Since you cannot play without a row, break up the game." The players got up slowly. "You understand?" Richard said under his breath, and Crane nodded surlily. The afternoon wore on and all remained quiet. Crane had evidently thought better of his foolish jealously. It was growing late, and there was going to be a high wind, and that was well, for it would set the tide yet stronger in its outward sweep, and their flight would be all the swifter. It lacked only a little while before the drum-tap. Richard got up and stood with his face to the glowing west to take his last farewell of the dream-girl with whom he kept his tryst each evening at this hour. "Good-by, sweetheart," he said in his inner consciousness. "I love you. On your dear eyes I kiss you--so--" "Attention! First division carry down their bedding!" He wheeled; for he was in that first division. A quick glance about the deck showed everything quiet as usual. Crane and a few others stood at the far end of the deck awaiting their order to go down with the rest of the bedding. This would take only ten minutes, then the drum-tap for the roll-call and--death or liberty. [Illustration: "... THE PRISONERS LINED UP AND ANSWERED TO THEIR NAMES."]