He lay perfectly still. The suddenness of the occasion had brought an unaccountable conflict of impulses and emotions. He felt that an alarming crisis was in the air. Along with this feeling came another, strange enough at such a time—a sense of confidence in the old steward. He had immediately recognized the voice in his ear. Why hadn’t he jumped out of bed? Why wasn’t he lying there in momentary expectation of a knife in the ribs—why didn’t he throw himself aside to avoid it? He could not understand his own immobility; yet he remained quiet. Something in the old Chinaman’s whisper held him in its command. Pride had succumbed to intrinsic authority. The rapid whisper began again, panting and insistent. "Cappen, you come now. Mus’ come quick. I savvy how can do. Maybe got time. S’pose stay here, finishee chop-chop" The hand was removed from his mouth, as if conscious that discretion had sufficiently been imposed. "What has happened, Wang?" whispered the agitated captain. "Makee killee, all samee I know" "Where’s the mate? Where’s the crew?" "All go, Cappen" Again the hand came over his mouth "You come quick. Bym’by, no can do" Captain Sheldon flung the steward’s arm aside and sat up wildly. "Good God, let me go, Wang! I must go out...." "Cappen, make no bobbery" "Where’s my revolver?" The captain was hunting distractedly through the bed. "He go, too" The whisper took on a despairing tone. "Cappen, s’pose you gotee match?" "Yes" "Makee one light" Captain Sheldon found the box and struck a match. The tiny illumination filled the narrow cabin. As the flame brightened, Wang rolled over on the floor, disclosing one hand held against his left breast, a hand holding a bloody wad of tunic against a hidden wound. A sop of blood on the floor marked the spot where he had been lying. The match burned out. Again came the painful whisper. "Maybe can do now. Bym’by, no can do" "My God, Wang! You’re wounded! How can we get out? I’ll carry you" "No, sir, Cappen. I savvy way. You feelee here, Cappen" The steward was already fumbling with his free hand at a ringbolt in the floor. He guided the captain’s arm to it. Captain Sheldon grasped the ringbolt, pulled up a trap-door that seemed to lead into the hold. Letting himself over the edge, his feet found a deck not far below. He stood upright in the opening, and lifted Wang bodily to the lower level. The old Chinaman struggled to be put down. "Wang, keep still—let me carry you" "No, sir, Cappen. Walkee-walkee, can do. You no savvy way"