Judah Marsh wrote slowly but steadily with a savage gouging, his writing a pattern of cutlass gashes. Shawn took the quill from him, regarding the point in sorrow and the man who had nearly ruined it. Some current of understanding was flowing between them, no affection in it and no mirth. Shawn signed his name, handsome and large and bold, pocketed the folded paper, and flung the quill dartwise over the side. "Stay as you be, men," he said--"we'll choose the watches presently." He jerked his head for Ben to follow him, and went forward to the bow, leaning there idly at the rail, the wind at his back. "Cory, I did not require you to sign. Men go with me of their own will, one way or another." "And so I'm to go overboard?" "You seem not to be shaking.... I've not been so instructed." "Instructed?--I don't understand you." "Never mind. Time, time." "We are strangers, Mr. Shawn, who never met before. You could have forced my hand to take the quill, maybe. I'd never sign such a thing any other way, and I will not serve you on this venture." Shawn's face did not change. "Are the others all dead?" Shawn watched the ocean in the south. "Several died and no help for it," he said quietly. "Peter Jenks lives--not harmed, I dare say. A thick skull. He'll share my cabin for a while at least." "Share----" Shawn laughed, not musically but almost soundlessly, a thing Ben had not seen him do before. "Under restraint, Ben. Like all good vessels, _Artemis_, who must now be named _Diana_, carries irons for malefactors. I have had Chips staple a chain in the floor of the cabin for the leg irons. Unpleasant, but I'm obliged to question Mr. Jenks in certain particulars. Then no doubt he can be released." "Released to go overside." "Time, Ben, time. And so you will not serve me?" "I will not." "I like that stubborn will. Mother of God, what a power of strength it might be when you're a man!... Ben, those fellas back there, they are servants. Good men--chose 'em with much thought--but servants, cattle. You are not as they." "If I did you any service aboard this vessel of Mr. Kenny's I'd be no better than they are." But it seemed impossible for Ben to make Shawn angry. The man continued strangely gentle and reflective in all he said. "I grant I may have done Mr. Kenny some harm, but he's a wealthy man." About to protest that Mr. Kenny would be so no longer with _Artemis_ lost, Ben held his peace. "I do regret it. If you will not serve me--as yet--perhaps you will serve the ketch? A vessel hath many needs, Mr. Cory. An idle or unskillful hand may do her much harm, come tempest or other misfortune. You cannot expect to share in any prizes----" "Do you fancy I ever would?" "Shall we hope to soften this Puritan virtue to some degree?" But Shawn was not at all angry. "I say, you cannot share in prizes, but while aboard you will be fed and clothed like the others, and for this perhaps you might make some return in labor, if only for _Artemis'_ sake?"