"
A look of relief came over the long face, but he still gazed at the
serpentine patternings. "I--I thought I was seeing--ugh, isn't it
horrible!"
"You're unstrung, Caradoc; better go lie down," suggested Madden in
considerate tones.
The mood of the Briton underwent a characteristic quick shift. "Me lie
down?" he rasped. "I'll have my property. You're grabbing authority fast
enough, but you'll learn Englishmen don't submit to impositions. Threw
it overboard!" he laughed with sour incredulity. "Bet you have it in
your cabin."
The men stopped work, gaping at the insubordination. Madden flushed
under the implication. He stepped forward to smash the long insolent
face and white mustache, but it was plain the Englishman was on the
verge of a nervous breakdown.
Madden caught himself, stood drawing short breaths through expanded
nostrils. "Go to your bunk, Caradoc, and wait till you're sane," he
ordered in fairly even tones, then turned abruptly, leaving the big
fellow scowling and biting his choppy mustache.
The navvies turned back to their work, distinctly disappointed; they had
expected a fight.
Within the next few days the crew dropped into the routine of derelict
life. When the sky cleared and the sea flattened, it left the big dock
amid breathless heat beneath a molten tropical sky.
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