Across the
deck, amidships, the men had congregated to watch Theriere's
operations, while beyond them stood Barbara Harding held
fascinated by the grim tragedy that was unfolding before her
upon this accursed vessel.
Theriere leaned over the open hatch, in full view of the
waiting Byrne, ready below. There was the instant report of a
firearm and a bullet whizzed close past Theriere's head.
"Avast there, Byrne!" he shouted. "It's I, Theriere. Don't
shoot again, I want to speak to you."
"No monkey business now," growled the mucker in reply.
"I won't miss again."
"I want to talk with you, Byrne," said Theriere in a low
tone. "I'm coming down there."
"No you ain't, cul," returned Byrne; "leastways yeh ain't
a-comin' down here alive."
"Yes I am, Byrne," replied Theriere, "and you don't want
to be foolish about it. I'm unarmed. You can cover me with
your gun until you have satisfied yourself as to that. I'm the
only man on the ship that can save your life--the only man
that has any reason to want to; but we've got to talk it over
and we can't talk this way where there's a chance of being
overheard. I'll be on the square with you if you will with me,
and if we can't come to terms I'll come above again and you
won't be any worse off than you are now.
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