Peter Stock beckoned him close and called huskily for lint and oils. Macready was back in a moment from the store-room, removed the cracked and twisted boots; cleansed the ashes from the face and ears of his chief; administered stimulant and talked incessantly. "It's rainin' evenchooalities out.... Ha, thim burns is not so bad, though your shoes were pretty thin, an' the deck's smeared with red-hot paste. It's no bit of a geyser in a dirt-pile, sure, can tell Misther Stock whin to come and whin to go." The cabin filled with the odor of burnt flesh as he stripped the coat from Stock's shoulder, where an incandescent pebble had fallen and burned through the cloth. Ointments and bandages were applied before the owner said: "We must be getting pretty close in the harbor?" This corked Macready's effervescence. Pugh had been putting the _Saragossa_ out to sea, since he assumed control. It hadn't occurred to the little Irishman that Mr. Stock would put back into the harbor of an island freshly-exploded. "I dunno, sir. It's hard to see for the rain." "Go to the door and find out". The rain fell in sheets. Big seas were driving past, and the steady beat of the engines was audible. There was no smoke, no familiar shadow of hills, but a leaden tumult of sky, and the rollers of open sea beaten by a cloudburst. The commander did not need to be told. It all came back to him--Laird's body hanging over the railing of the bridge; Plass down; Pugh, a new man, in command. "Up to the bridge, Macready, and tell Pugh for me not to be in such a damned hurry--running away from a stricken town. Tell him to put back in the roadstead where we belong." Macready was gone several moments, and reported, "Pugh says we're short-handed; that the ship's badly-charred, but worth savin'; in short, sir, that he's not takin' orders from no valet--meanin' me." Nature was righting herself in the brain of the American, but the problems of time and space still were mountains to him. Macready saw the gray eye harden, and knew what the next words would be before they were spoken. "Bring Pugh here!" It was rather a sweet duty for Macready, whose colors had been lowered by the untried officer. The latter was in a funk, if ever a seaman had such a seizure. Pugh gave an order to the man at the wheel and followed the Irishman below, where he encountered the gray eye, and felt Macready behind him at the door. "Turn back to harbor at once--full speed!" Pugh hesitated, his small black eyes burning with terror. "Turn back, I say! Get to hell out of here!" "But a firefly couldn't live in there, sir----" "Call two sailors, Macready!" Stock commanded, and when they came, added, "Put him in irons, you men!... Macready, help me to the bridge." * * * * *