He carried her gently down and laid her on his blankets, put some sticks on the fire and blew them into flame, and set on the kettle, which was fortunately full. By the time he had made some coffee and dashed it with rum, she had recovered herself and was sitting up in the blankets with one drawn closely about her. "That was an unnerving business," he said, as he handed her her cup. "I'm afraid you had the worst of it. You have a lot of scratches--and your hands! Oh, I am truly sorry----" "It was the rope," she said quietly, looking at the rasped rawness of them. "It was all horrible. How did it get on fire?" "It was a deliberate attempt on the part of that wretch to make an end of us." "No!"--and she gazed at him in blankest amazement. "Without doubt. He blocked our doors here with a plank and a rope, and then started the fire down in the hold." "Is such wickedness possible?" "To a madman living chiefly on rum anything is possible." "He deserves to die." "Richly. He deserves no mercy. The thought of cutting him down with an axe was horrible. But after this----" "There is no safety for us while he lives." "I'm afraid there isn't." Sleep, he knew, would brace her unstrung nerves better than any thing else, so, after bathing her hands in luke-warm water and anointing them with some of the rendered pork fat she kept for her cooking, he induced her to go and lie down in her bunk. Her other scratches she said she would attend to when she could see them properly. Then he went on deck and drew up a bucket of water and washed off his own stains, and afterwards smoked many pipes as he pondered the unpleasantly weighty subject of Macro. For that matters could go on like this was out of the question. XLII He had cakes made and breakfast all ready long before she came out of her room, still visibly feeling the effects of the night's proceedings. "I am stiff and sore all over," she said, lowering herself carefully to her seat on the floor. "And you?" "Sorer in mind than in body." "What will you do?" "I shall go over presently and tell him that now he must look out for himself. I will end him, the first chance I get, as I would a wild beast." "He will try to kill you on the spot." "He won't get the chance. I'll see to that." "I shall go with you." "No." "Yes, indeed. My heart would thump itself to pieces, waiting here all alone." "He is dangerous, and he has a vile tongue when it runs away with him----" "I do not care. It is no more dangerous for me than for you. No--no--no!"--as he was about to argue the matter,--"I cannot be left behind," and nothing he could say could move her. They saw no sign of life on the 'Jane and Mary,' not so much as a whiff of smoke from the companion-hatch. "Perhaps he fled when he saw his horrid scheme had failed," suggested The Girl hopefully. "Not very likely, I'm afraid, but we can go across and see. Won't you be good now and take my advice----"