Swinging the lantern ahead of me, I led the way down the companionway. Something lay huddled at the foot. I had to step over it to get down. Singleton stood above, on the steps. I stooped and held the lantern close, and we both saw that it was the captain, killed as Vail had been. He was fully dressed except for his coat, and as he lay on his back, his cap had been placed over his mutilated face. I thought I heard something moving behind me in the cabin, and wheeled sharply, holding my revolver leveled. The idea had come to me that the crew had mutinied, and that every one in the after house had been killed. The idea made me frantic; I thought of the women, of Elsa Lee, and I was ready to kill. “Where is the light switch?” I demanded of Singleton, who was still on the companion steps, swaying. “I don’t know,” he said, and collapsed, sitting huddled just above the captain’s body, with his face in his hands. I saw I need not look to him for help, and I succeeded in turning on the light in the swinging lamp in the center of the cabin. There was no sign of any struggle, and the cabin was empty. I went back to the captain’s body, and threw a rug over it. Then I reached over and shook Singleton by the arm. “Do something!” I raved. “Call the crew. Get somebody here, you drunken fool!” He rose and staggered up the companionway, and I ran to Miss Lee’s door. It was closed and locked, as were all the others except Vail’s and the one I had broken open. I reached Mr. Turner’s door last. It was locked, and I got no response to my knock. I remembered that his room and Vail’s connected through a bath, and, still holding my revolver leveled, I ran into Vail’s room again, this time turning on the light. A night light was burning in the bath-room, and the door beyond was unlocked. I flung it open and stepped in. Turner was lying on his bed, fully dressed, and at first I thought he too had been murdered. But he was in a drunken stupor. He sat up, dazed, when I shook him by the arm. “Mr. Turner!” I cried. “Try to rouse yourself, man! The captain has been murdered, and Mr. Vail!” He made an effort to sit up, swayed, and fell back again. His face was swollen and purplish, his eyes congested. He made an effort to speak, but failed to be intelligible. I had no time to waste. Somewhere on the Ella the murderer was loose. He must be found. I flung out of Turner’s cabin as the crew, gathered from the forecastle and from the decks, crowded down the forward companionway. I ran my eye over them. Every man was there, Singleton below by the captain’s body, the crew, silent and horror-struck, grouped on the steps: Clarke, McNamara, Burns, Oleson, and Adams. Behind the crew, Charlie Jones had left the wheel and stood peering down, until sharply ordered back. Williams, with a bandage on his head, and Tom, the mulatto cook, were in the group.