"There it is, you see. She is nobody's right but her own. And neither she nor I are your servants, to prepare your food and see to your comfort while you dig treasure out of the wreckage. So we have decided to fend for ourselves and you can fend for yourself." "Ah! You think so, do you? We'll see about that." "We undertake not to go aboard your ship if you give your word not to come aboard ours." "See you ---- first!" "Thank you! Then now we know how we stand, and will act accordingly." "Ay, now you know." "And will act accordingly," emphasised Wulfrey once more. "I must ask you to keep off," as the mate paddled alongside and reached up a rough hairy hand to the side. "I'm sorry it's come to this, but I won't have you on board." "Won't, eh?" and as he reached up the other hand and prepared to mount, Wulfrey picked up his axe and held it threateningly above the clinging hands, which straightway loosed their hold amid a volley of curses. "---- ---- ---- ---- you! You'd maim me! ---- ---- ---- ---- me, if I don't pay you for this! The girl's mine. I found her. I'll get her over your dead body if needs be." "Ah! And who found you? And where would you be if I hadn't helped you on to the raft yon first night? Tell me that, will you? By the same rule you're mine, and all you've got is mine." "---- ---- ---- ---- you for a ---- ---- ---- sea-lawyer!" foamed the mate, his dark face and eyes all ablaze, his shaking fists hurling curses beyond the compass of his tongue. Wulfrey, eyeing him professionally, said to himself, "Too much rum. He'll have D.T. if he doesn't slack off--or a fit if he does much of this kind of thing." The mate thrashed back to his own ship with furious strokes and climbed aboard, and Wulfrey, having watched him safely up the side, went down to The Girl. "He is very angry," he said quietly. "He did not whisper. I couldn't help hearing him. What will he do next?" "We can only wait and see. We shall have to be on our guard, but we won't let him trouble us. He is drinking too much." They saw nothing more of him all that day, not even his head above the bulwarks. Wulfrey surmised that he was probably treating his wrath with rum, and plotting mischief, or maybe he was lying dead drunk in his cabin. They themselves were well provided in all respects, but he had good reason to know that stocks across there were running low, and that before long the man of wrath would have to go abroad to make up his deficiencies, and that would give them the opportunity of getting in fresh water and rabbit-meat. He could only hope the mate would not postpone his journey too long, for the weather seemed like changing. There was no sun visible, not a speck of blue sky, but in their place a wan-white opaqueness which looked portentous and might mean anything.