Wicks emptied his revolver at the
voice, which broke into mouse-like whimperings and
groans. Silence succeeded, and the murderer ran on
deck like one possessed.
The other three were now all gathered on the fore
hatch, and Wicks took his place beside them without
question asked or answered. They sat close like
children in the dark, and shook each other with their
shaking. The dusk continued to fall; and there was no
sound but the beating of the surf and the occasional
hiccup of a sob from Tommy Hadden.
"God, if there was another ship!" cried Carthew of a
sudden.
Wicks started and looked aloft with the trick of all
seamen, and shuddered as he saw the hanging figure on
the royal-yard.
"If I went aloft, I'd fall," he said simply. "I'm done
up."
It was Amalu who volunteered, climbed to the very
truck, swept the fading horizon, and announced nothing
within sight.
"No odds," said Wicks. "We can't sleep ..."
"Sleep!" echoed Carthew; and it seemed as if the whole
of Shakespeare's MACBETH thundered at the gallop
through his mind.
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