Even as I tried, with my small strength, and the words at my command, to stop this suicide and murder, there came to me the memory of the similarity of happenings to these two men--that they were born in the same spot and at the same moment, that the dates of their departures coincided, and that they had both been strongly influenced by the same woman, one to be uplifted, the other to be dragged down. Was it to happen that both should die at the same time? I felt, rather than believed, that the laws of astrology were as nothing when opposed to the human will, and I resolved to stop that struggle. I rushed on deck, and called the mate. He came, the inquiry in his face apprising me that he had heard the sounds from below, and was wondering. "Call all hands," I commanded. "The captain is half insane and is bent upon jumping overboard with the owner. Separate them." "Not much," he said. "I've nothing to do with their troubles, but I've got my living to make. Both have power to fire me, and no matter who wins, I'd get it in the neck." "Men, come aft here," I shouted to the sailors. The men forward came toward me, but were stopped by the mate. "Go back," he said. "This is none of your funeral nor mine. Let the owner settle his own affairs." They obeyed him, and drew away. Of course, they did not know. I ran aft to the companion. Dunbar and Lance were just at the upper step. Dunbar was speaking, quietly, softly, yet intensely upon the matter in hand--the absolute necessity of their both dying. He had one hand on Lance's throat, the other upon his hair, and he was dragging him bodily out of the companion. "Dunbar!" I shouted, "stop this. You are insane. Put him in irons and take time to think. Then you will not want to do this. Think, Dunbar." He did not answer. His grim, determined face did not change nor soften. He was the master of the other and was using his power. Slowly, while Lance struggled and shrieked for help, he dragged him over toward the rail. "Drop your wheel," I said to the helmsman, "and help me to stop this murder and suicide." "Can't leave the wheel, sir," the man answered. "Get some of the other fellows." The other fellows were under control of the mate, careful of his job. I was in despair, and in my despair I threw myself upon Dunbar, demanding that he desist. He struck me down with a blow, and while I was in a half-comatose condition, I saw a white-clad figure emerge from the companion, and approach the contestants. It was Ella, in her night robe, pale and weak, but determined. "John," she said, as she laid her hand on the shoulder of Dunbar, "John Dunbar. Stop. If you do this I will die, too. Do you want to kill me? Stop, or you _will_ kill me. Stop, John Dunbar, and think of me, the woman you say you loved."