Even Joel Shore saw the new light in Priscilla’s eyes when she met Mark at breakfast in the cabin next morning; and it is said husbands are the last to see such things.

That story she had heard the night before, the story Mark told Joel in the after cabin, had made of him something superhuman in her eyes. He was a gigantic, an epic figure; he had lived red life, and fought for his life, and killed.... There was Puritan blood in Priscilla; but overrunning it was a flood of warmer life, a cross-strain from some southern forebear, which sang now in answer to the touch of Mark’s words. She watched him, that morning, with wide eyes that were full of wonder and of awe.

Mark saw, and was immensely amused. He asked her: “Why do you look at me like that, little sister? I’m not going to bite....”

Priscilla caught herself, and smiled, and laughed at him. “How do I look at you? You’re—imagining things, Mark.”

“Am I?” he asked. And he touched Joel’s arm. “Look at her, Joel, and see which of us is right.”

Joel was eating his breakfast silently, but he had seen Priscilla’s eyes. He looked toward her now, and she flushed in spite of herself, and got up quickly, and slipped away.... They watched her go, Joel’s eyes clouded thoughtfully, Mark’s shining. And when she was gone, Mark leaned across and said to Joel softly, a devil of mischief in his eyes: “She heard my tale last night, Joel. She was not asleep. Fooled you....”

Joel shook his head. “No. She was asleep.”

Mark laughed. “Don’t you suppose I know. I’ve seen that look in woman’s eyes before. In the eyes of the little brown girl, the night I dropped the fat man overside....”

He sat there, chuckling, when Joel got abruptly to his feet and went on deck; and when he came up the companion a little later, he was still chuckling under his breath.

After that first morning, Priss was able to cloak her eyes and hide her thoughts; and on the surface, life aboard the Nathan Ross seemed to go on as before. Mark threw himself into the routine of the work, mixing with the men, going off in the boats when there was a whale to be struck, doing three men’s share of toil. Joel one day remonstrated with him. “It is not wise,” he said. “You were captain here; you are my brother. It is not wise for you to mix, as an equal, with the men.”

Mark only laughed at him. “Your dignity is very precious to you, Joel,” he mocked. “But as for me—I am not proud. You’d not have me sit aft and twiddle my thumbs and hold yarn for little Priss.... And I must be doing something....”

He and Jim Finch were much together. Finch always gave Joel careful obedience, always handled the ship when he was in charge with smooth efficiency. His boat was the best manned and the most successful of the four. But he and Joel were not comradely. Joel instinctively disliked the big man; and Finch’s servility disgusted him. The mate was full of smooth and flattering words, but his eyes were shallow.

Mark talked with him long, one morning; and then he left Finch and came to Joel, by the after house, chuckling as though at some enormous jest. “Will ye look at Finch, there?” he begged.

Joel had been watching the two. He saw Finch now, standing just forward of the boat house with flushed cheeks and eyes fixed and hands twitching. The big man was powerfully moved by something.... “What is it that’s got him?” Joel asked.

“I’ve told him about the pearls,” Mark chuckled. “He’s wild to be after them....”

Joel turned on his brother hotly. “You’re mad, Mark,” he snapped. “That is no word to be loose in the ship.”

“I’ve but told Finch,” Mark protested. “It’s mirthful to watch the man wiggle.”

“He’ll tell the ship. His tongue wags unceasingly.”

Mark lifted his shoulders. “Tell him to be silent. You should keep order on your ship, Joel.”

Joel beckoned, and Finch came toward them. As he came, he fought for self control; and when he stood before them, his lips were twisting into something like a smile, and his eyes were shifty and gleaming. Joel said quietly:

“Mr. Finch, my brother says he has told you his story.”

“Yes, sir,” said Finch. “An extraordinary adventure, Captain Shore.”

“I think it best the men should know nothing about it,” Joel told him. “You will please keep it to yourself.”

Finch grinned. “Of course, sir. There’s no need they should have any share in them.”

Joel flushed angrily. “We are not going after them. I consider it dangerous, and unwise.”

Over Finch’s fat cheeks swept a twitching grimace of dismay. “But I thought....” He looked at Mark, and Mark was chuckling. “It’s so easy, sir,” he protested. “Just go, and get them.... Rich....”

Joel shook his head. “Keep silent about the matter, Finch.”

Finch slowly bowed his head, and he smirked respectfully. “Very well, Captain Shore,” he agreed. “You always know best, sir.”

He turned away; and after a little Mark said softly: “You have him well trained, Joel. Like a little dog.... I wonder that you can handle men so....”

Two days later, Joel knew that either Finch or Mark had told the tale anew. Young Dick Morrell came to him with shining eyes. “Is it true, sir, that we’re going after the pearls your brother hid?” he asked. “I just heard....”

Joel gripped the boy’s arm. “Who told you?”

Morrell twisted free, half angry. “I—overheard it, sir. Is it true?”

“No,” said Joel. “We’re a whaler, and we stick to our trade.”

Dick lifted both hands, in a gesture almost pleading. “But it would be so simple, sir....”

“Keep the whole matter quiet, Morrell,” Joel told him. “I do not wish the men to know of it. And if you hear any further talk, report it to me.”

Morrell’s eyes were sulky. He said slowly: “Yes, sir.” The set of his shoulders, as he stalked forward, seemed to Joel defiant....

Within the week, the whole ship knew the story. Old Aaron Burnham, repairing a bunk in the fo’c’s’le, heard the men whispering the thing among themselves. “Tongues hissing like little serpents, sir,” he told Joel, in the cabin that night. “All of pearls, and women, and the like.... And a shine in their eyes....”

“Thanks, Aaron,” Joel said. “I’m sorry the men know....”

“Aye, they know. Be sure of that,” Aaron repeated, with bobbing head. “And they’re roused by what they know. Some say you’re going after the pearls, and aim to fraud them of their lay. And some say you’re a mad fool that will not go....”

Joel’s fist, on the table, softly clenched. “What else?” he asked.

Aaron watched him sidewise. “There was a whisper that you might be made to go....”

Priscilla saw, that night, that Joel was troubled. She and Mark were together on the cushioned seat in the after cabin, and Joel sat at his desk, over the log. Mark was telling Priss an expurgated version of some one of his adventures; and Joel, looking once or twice that way, saw the quick-caught breath in her throat, saw her tremulous interest.... And his eyes clouded, so that when Priscilla chanced to look toward him, she saw, and cried:

“Joel! What’s the matter? You look so....”

He looked from one of them to the other for a space; and then his eyes rested on Mark’s, and he said slowly: “It’s in my mind that I’d have done best to set you ashore at Tubuai, Mark.”

Mark laughed; but Priss cried hotly: “Joel! What a perfectly horrible thing to say!” Her voice had grown deeper and more resonant of late, Joel thought. It was no longer the voice of a girl, but of a woman.... Mark touched her arm.

“Don’t care about him,” he told her. “That’s only brotherly love....”

“He oughtn’t to say it.”

Joel said quietly: “This is a matter you do not understand, Priscilla. You would do well to keep silent. It is my affair.”

A month before, this would have swept Priss into a fury of anger; but this night, though her eyes burned with slow resentment, she bit her lips and was still. A month ago, she would have forgotten over night. Now she would remember....

Mark got up, laughed. “He’s bad company, Priss,” he told her. “Come on deck with me.”

She rose, readily enough; and they went out through the main cabin, and up the companionway. Joel watched them go. They left open the door into the cabin, and he heard Varde and Finch, at the table there, talking in husky whispers.... It was so, he knew, over the whole ship. Everywhere, the men were whispering.... There hung over the Nathan Ross a cloud as definite as a man’s hand; and every man scowled—save Mark Shore. Mark smiled with malicious delight at the gathering storm he had provoked....

Joel, left in the after cabin, felt terribly lonely. He wanted Priss with him, laughing, at his side. His longing for her was like a hot coal in his throat, burning there. And she had taken sides with Mark, against him.... His shoulders shook with the sudden surge of his desire to grip Mark’s lean throat.... Ashore, he would have done so. But as things were, the ship was his first charge; and a break with Mark would precipitate the thing that menaced the ship.... He could not fight Mark without risking the Nathan Ross; and he could not risk the Nathan Ross. Not even.... His head dropped for an instant in his arms, and then he got up quickly, and shook himself, and set his lips.... No man aboard must see the trouble in his heart....

He went through the main cabin, and climbed to the deck. There was some sea running, and a wind that brushed aside all smaller sounds, so that he made little noise. Thus, when he reached the top of the companion, he saw two dark figures in the shadows of the boat house, closely clasped....

He stood for an instant, white hot.... His wife, and Mark.... His little Priss, and his brother....

Then he went quietly below, and glanced at the chart, and chose a course upon it. The nearest land; he and Mark ashore together.... His blood ran hungrily at the thought....