"Massy sake!" the cook gasped in disgust, "ef it ain't dat no 'count Kipping." "Lemme in," persisted the mild, plaintive voice. "Lemme in." "Aw, go 'long! Dah ain't no pie in heah," the cook retorted. "You's dreamin', dat's what you is. You needs a good dose of medicine, dat's what you needs." "I'm dreaming, am I?" the mild voice repeated. "Oh, yes, I'm dreaming I am, ain't I? I didn't sneak around the galley yesterday morning and hear you tell that cocky little fool to come and get a piece of pie tonight. Oh, no! I didn't see him come prowling around when he thought no one was looking. Oh, no! I didn't see you come out of the galley like you didn't know there was anybody on deck, and walk right under the rigging where I was waiting for just such tricks. Oh, no! I was dreaming, I was. Oh, yes." "Dat Kipping," the cook whispered, "he's hand and foot with Mistah Falk." "Lemme in, you woolly-headed son of perdition, or I swear I'll take the kinky scalp right off your round old head." "He's gettin' violenter," the cook whispered, eyeing me questioningly. Saying nothing, I swallowed the last bit of pie. I had made the most of my opportunity. Kipping now shook the door and swore angrily. Finally he kicked it with the full weight of his heel. It rattled on its hinges and a long crack appeared in the lower panel. "He's sho' coming in," the African said slowly and reflectively. "He's sho' coming in and when he don't get no pie, he's gwine tell Mistah Falk, and you and me's gwine have trouble." Putting his scowling face close to my ear, the cook whispered, "Ah's gwine scare him good." Amazed by the dramatic turn that events were taking, I drew back into a corner. From the rack above his head the cook took down the carving-knife. Dropping on hands and knees and creeping across the floor, he held the weapon between his even white teeth, sat up on his haunches, and noiselessly drew the bolt that locked the door. Then with a deft motion of an extraordinarily long arm he put out the lantern behind him and threw the galley into darkness. CHAPTER V KIPPING I thought that Kipping must have abandoned his quest. In the darkness of the galley the silence seemed hours long. The coals in the stove glowed redly, and the almost imperceptible light of the starry sky came in here and there around the door. Otherwise not a thing was visible in the absolute blackness that shrouded my strange host, who seemed for the moment to have reverted to the savage craft of his Slave Coast ancestors. Surely Kipping must have gone away, I thought. He was so mild a man, one could expect nothing else. Then somewhere I heard the faint sigh of indrawn breath. "You blasted nigger, open that door," said the mild, sad voice. "If you don't, I'm going to kick it in on top of you and cut your heart out right where you stand."