Captain Keighley leaned back against the shaft and took off his helmet. The men stood waiting. They had depended on him to show them the way out of the danger into which he had led them. One of the “Jiggers”--it was “Shine” Conlin--demanded, “How are we goin’ to get up?” “Well,” Keighley rounded on him, “I’m not keepin’ yuh, am I? Get up any way yuh like!” III The words were given like a challenge--a challenge to one of those trials of authority in which the trained leader, turning on his rebellious followers, seems to use the hand of chance and circumstance to whip them into line--a challenge that struck the men before him with a little start of surprise that passed over the group like a shudder. They stared at him. Some of them were pale, with lips parted. One of the captain’s own faction had an odd expression of hurt amazement and reproach. Another was frowning. “Shine” said angrily, “_You_ brought us down here. Why the hell don’t yuh take us up?” The captain smiled. He was clean-shaven, lean-cheeked, thin-lipped; and his smile was not sweet--for he knew that he had been beaten by the fire, and he knew that he could have been so beaten only because of the treachery of his lieutenant and the “Jiggers.” “Moore,” he said, “take yer gang back to the _Hudson_. It’s goin’ to be cooler out there.” The lieutenant blinked at him. It was the first time that Keighley had openly shown his quiet understanding of the intrigues among the crew, and the change in his manner was a sufficient menace without the sarcastic implication of his words. What that implication was, Moore was trying not to let himself consider. Fires had been to him what battles are to the general who has political ambitions. That the issue of any one of them might endanger his career had been possible; that it might end his life had never seriously occurred to him. And the Adam’s apple in his throat worked like a feed-pump gone dry as he swallowed and swallowed that fear. The men looked at him; and it was evident that he was in no condition to think for them. They looked at the captain; and Keighley’s hard eyes were glittering hostilely as they shifted down the line from face to face. “I saw yer frien’ Doherty on deck,” he said. “I guess yer benev’lent association o’ Jigger-jumpers had something to do with this bus’ness, eh?” They did not answer. “Well,” he said, “I hope it’s good fer it. It’s goin’ to be a heavy call on the treasurer--five o’ yuh--in a bunch.” “Shine” turned with an oath and ran out to the engine room. The others broke and followed him. Keighley, alone with his lieutenant, regarded him grimly. [Illustration: “_It’s going to be a heavy call on the treasurer--five o’ yuh--in a bunch_” See page 32]