"Come every morning to look at us, the pretties, on the Island of San Pedro." The Old Man laughed in a queer way. "The tide brought 'em more than one nice breakfast, but they never had no luck with me and that bye. He! he! he!" The Old Man went down to the cabin rather unsteadily, but laughing all the way. XV "Shouldn't wonder if it's a wet night," said Mr. MacFarlane to the mate in the hearing of the boy. This was a technicality that Henry Harper didn't understand, but it held no mystery for Mr. Thompson, who smiled as he alone could and growled, "Yep." After supper, the Old Man sat late and drank deep. He pressed both his officers to share with him. He was always passing the bottle, but though Mr. Thompson and Mr. MacFarlane were able to keep a stout course, they were simply not in it with the Old Man. For one thing both were men of principle who preferred rum to brandy, and very luckily for the Margaret Carey, Mr. Thompson in certain aspects of his nature preferred his ship to either. The Old Man talked much that night of the Island of San Pedro, overmuch perhaps for the refined mind of the second mate. The boy stood listening behind the Old Man's chair, ready to go about as soon as the Old Man should be at the end of the bottle. "No, we didn't touch human flesh," said the Old Man. "I give you my word of honor as a Christian man. But we caught one o' the Chinamen at it—two of us was Chinamen—an' we drew lots as to who should do him in. There was three white men left at that time, including myself and excluding the bye. Andrews it was, our bosun, who drawed the ticket, and as soon as he drawed it I thought he looked young for the work. He wanted to pass it to me, but I said no—he'd drawed the ticket an' he must do the will o' God." "'Scuse my interrupting, sir," said Mr. MacFarlane, "but how did ye know it was the will o' God?" "Because he'd drawed the ticket, you fool," snapped the Old Man. "Didn't I say he'd drawed the ticket?" "Yep," nodded Mr. Thompson. "Very
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