Tommy, with a
sudden clamour of weeping, begged for his life. "One
man can't hurt us," he sobbed. "We can't go on with
this. I spoke to him at dinner. He's an awful decent
little cad. It can't be done. Nobody can go into that
place and murder him. It's too damned wicked."
The sound of his supplications was perhaps audible to
the unfortunate below.
"One left and we all hang," said Wicks. "Brown must go
the same road." The big man was deadly white and
trembled like an aspen; and he had no sooner finished
speaking than he went to the ship's side and vomited.
"We can never do it if we wait," said Carthew. "Now or
never," and he marched towards the scuttle.
"No, no, no!" wailed Tommy, clutching at his Jacket.
But Carthew flung him off, and stepped down the ladder,
his heart rising with disgust and shame. The Chinaman
lay on the floor, still groaning; the place was pitch
dark.
"Brown!" cried Carthew; "Brown, where are you?"
His heart smote him for the treacherous apostrophe, but
no answer came.
He groped in the bunks: they were all empty.
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