to act philosophically under stress or kick up a hullabaloo. In the latter event you may reasonably expect some rough stuff. Truth is, I’m only borrowing the yacht as far as latitude ten degrees and longitude one hundred and ten degrees, off Catwick Island. You carry a boson’s whistle at the end of your watch chain. Blow it!” was the challenge.

“You bid me blow it?”

“Only to convince you how absolutely helpless you are,” said Cunningham, amiably. “Yesterday this day’s madness did prepare, as our old friend Omar used to say. Vedder did great work on that, didn’t he? Toot the whistle, for shortly we shall weigh anchor.”

Like a man in a dream, Cleigh got out his whistle. The first blast was feeble and windy. Cunningham grinned.

“Blow it, man, blow it!” 118

118

Cleigh set the whistle between his lips and blew a blast that must have been heard half a mile away.

“That’s something like! Now we’ll have results!”

Above, on deck, came the scuffle of hurrying feet, and immediately—as if they had been prepared against this moment—three fourths of the crew came tumbling down the companionway.

“Seize this man!” shouted Cleigh, thunderously, as he indicated Cunningham.

The men, however, fell into line and came to attention. Most of them were grinning.

“Do you hear me? Brown, Jessup, McCarthy—seize this man!”

No one stirred. Cleigh then lost his head. With a growl he sprang toward Cunningham. Half the crew jumped instantly into the gap between, and they were no longer grinning. Cunningham pushed aside the human wall and faced the Wanderer’s owner.

“Do you begin to understand?”

“No! But whatever your game is, it will prove bad business for you in the end. And you men, too. The world has grown mighty small, and you’ll find it hard to hide—unless you kill me and have done with it!”

“Tut, tut! Wouldn’t harm a hair of your 119 head. The world is small, as you 

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