‘Not yet! Not yet!’ he answered hoarsely, as though his voice had been strained by shouting. ‘But, dear heart, we are together and may talk together now. Mr. Bates, step in.’ They were alone. He shut the door when the mate entered. ‘This is Marian Johnstone, the lady I was to have married, the lady who accompanied me on board this ship in the East India Docks. She followed me into this accursed vessel and, herself a woman of wealth and a lady by birth, has waited at your table, stooped to the vile drudgery of the cuddy, worked like a convict, associated with men no better than convicts, that she might be in sympathy with me in my degradation. May she find a reward!’ he cried, raising his hands and speaking in a broken voice. ‘Do you stare, Mr. Bates? Why, yes, to be sure; she was a boy and a cabin bottle-washer to your habit of thought down to a minute ago. But the secret of her sex is yours. This is her cousin, Will. Sir, on your honour, this lady is still a boy amongst us, and you know nothing. Consider our company. Give me your hand upon it.’ Mr. Bates extended his hand, and Tom grasped it. The mate was a man of a somewhat slow turn of mind. He looked at me hard whilst he retained his grasp of my sweetheart’s hand, and said: ‘I have been thinking as much for some time. There never was a boy with your skin and eyes. Butler’s a lucky man!’ ‘A wronged man!’ I cried. ‘I said so when I read the papers, and I’ve been saying it ever since aboard this ship, as you know, Johnstone.’ ‘She shipped as Simon Marlowe,’ said Tom, ‘and so she remains--that’s understood. Mr. Bates, you stop here with her and Johnstone. I’ll bring Abram and others presently. The wolves are tearing the cuddy to pieces in their rage to eat and drink. No man’ll harm you as my friend. You three are my friends--friends!’ he cried, and again he took me in his arms and held me to him, then passionately broke away and said, speaking fast and harshly and with a fierceness I had noticed in his whispers: ‘They’ll not hurt you! The devils are helpless without me. There’s not a navigator amongst them. It was concerted I was to take charge, and I do so on my own terms.’ ‘What have they done with the captain?’ cried Mr. Bates. ‘He’s in the prisoners’ quarters along with the doctor and Captain Barrett and the survivors of the guard. I fear the bad part of your sailors more than the convicts. There must be no bloodshed. But let them yell and roar. Give the mad spirits of the brutes time to languish. They have their liberty, but it is not the liberty of the shore, and they’ll not know what to do with it presently when they sober down and look around. Marian, my brave heart!’ For the third time he pressed me to him and stepped out, bidding us leave the door unbolted and to stay till he returned.