Vail’s room was next to the pantry, and forward. I felt my way to it, and rapped. “Vail,” I called. “Vail!” His door was open an inch or so. I went in and felt my way to his bunk. I could hear him breathing, a stertorous respiration like that of sleep, and yet unlike. The moment I touched him, the sound ceased, and did not commence again. I struck a match and bent over him. He had been almost cut to pieces with an axe. CHAPTER VI. IN THE AFTER HOUSE The match burnt out, and I dropped it. I remember mechanically extinguishing the glowing end with my heel, and then straightening to such a sense of horror as I have never felt before or since. I groped for the door; I wanted air, space, the freedom from lurking death of the open deck. I had been sleeping with my revolver beside me on the pantry floor. Somehow or other I got back there and found it. I made an attempt to find the switch for the cabin lights, and, failing, revolver in hand, I ran into the chart-room and up the after companionway. Charlie Jones was at the wheel, and by the light of a lantern I saw that he was bending to the right, peering in at the chartroom window. He turned when he heard me. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “I heard a yell a minute ago. Turner on the rampage?” He saw my revolver then, and, letting go the wheel, threw up both his hands. “Turn that gun away, you fool!” I could hardly speak. I lowered the revolver and gasped: “Call the captain! Vail’s been murdered! “Good God!” he said. “Who did it?” He had taken the wheel again, and was bringing the ship back to her course. I was turning sick and dizzy, and I clutched at the railing of the companionway. “I don’t know. Where’s the captain?” “The mate’s around.” He raised his voice. “Mr. Singleton!” he called. There was no time to lose, I felt. My nausea had left me. I ran forward to where I could dimly see Singleton looking in my direction. “Singleton! Quick!” I called. “Bring your revolver.” He stopped and peered in my direction. “Who is it?” “Leslie. Come below, for God’s sake!” He came slowly toward me, and in a dozen words I told him what had happened. I saw then that he had been drinking. He reeled against me, and seemed at a loss to know what to do. “Get your revolver,” I said, “and wake the captain.” He disappeared into the forward house, to come back a moment later with a revolver. I had got a lantern in the mean time, and ran to the forward companionway which led into the main cabin. Singleton followed me. “Where’s the captain?” I asked. “I didn’t call him,” Singleton replied, and muttered something unintelligible under his breath.