George Allan England

“ I tell you I had nothing at all to do with any trouble between you and the captain, sir!”
“No argument, now!” snapped Wingate. “Get that other hawser over, and look sharp! Then go below!” He gestured eloquently with the revolver in his hand. “It's no use for either of you to try to help Jaccard, or to untie him. I'll shoot the first man that sticks a nose out of that companionway! Get a move on, there! Jump!”
When the engineer, grumbling vain pleas of innocence, had vanished below, Wingate turned to the seaman. ”

“ You had to be made mad by scorn and insults—fighting mad, killing mad. You had to hate! Only a whip of scorpions could chase that morphine devil away; but the devil's gone now. I can see that! It's gone forever! ”

“ Are you crazy, or am I?”
“I've been so frightened, Marty—oh, just terribly! I didn't—didn't know but you might have been killed, er something; but the lookout I'd hired, at the club, sighted the Voyageur twenty minutes ago. He phoned the hotel—they woke me up—and here I am!”
Wingate fumbled for words.
“You—you were waiting? But what—”
“Listen, Marty!” She grew suddenly calmer, with a supreme effort. “You may never forgive me, but I don't care. What does that matter? What does anything matter, but that you're cured? Oh, I can see that, well enough—you cured! And the cost? It's nothing! ”