drowned the sounds of the happenings on deck. Once a great slimy rat scampered across his hand, leaving a streak of nauseating dampness upon it. He had been crouching on the floor, but at the touch of the dank skin he sprang to his feet with a startled cry.
All that day a storm had been brewing, and now it struck. Pandemonium raged upon the deck. In the blackness, Lee Goona wondered what evil deeds were being done. Was he aboard a pirate ship? An opium smuggler? Or was she engaged in slave-traffic? He did not know. Surmise as he would, he had no way of telling. The ship was groaning and moaning. Her beams were cracking under the pressure of the mighty waves. She rolled about at such a pitch that Lee Goona had trouble in keeping his feet. At last she rolled more ominously than ever, and he crashed to the floor, striking his head as he fell.
For a while he lay stunned. The rats screeched and screamed. They came and ran over his body in hordes. It was the patter of their cold, damp feet over his face that brought him to his senses. With a shriek which the roar of the wind drowned, he sprang to his feet, striking out blindly at the loathsome animals. In the darkness he crushed some beneath his feet. He was in a frenzy of loathing. His very flesh seemed to creep away from his bones. His head ached dully. No matter how hard he tried, he could not make out a angle thing in that well of blackness. The fetid air was frightful. He gasped for breath. Hotter and hotter it seemed to grow. To a great extent the increase in intensity of the heat was attributable to his nerves. He was on the verge of fever. If the heat continued it would burn him alive.
When all hope had died within him, the moaning and groaning of the ship ceased. Evidently the storm had passed, or at least lessened considerably. It was a relief to be able to keep his feet. At last there came a draft of fresh air. The hatch had been opened. The next moment Jimber Jawn appeared at the top of the rope ladder. He held a lantern far above his head.
"Come on up!" he cried, and his voice was as friendly as Lee Goona had ever heard it.
It was some time before Lee Goona's eyes could get used to the light on deck. For now the storm had passed completely and a pale yellow moon hung low in the sky. It lighted up the deck as though dawn had already broken. It created a street of golden light on the purple sea that stretched off to imagined isles of romance. It was a moment of superb beauty. The golden sails were set. They stood out clear-cut against the soft blue of the sky. He was surprized that the sails had not been lowered. Surely the ship had not ridden under full sail through that terrific storm! It was unnatural. But then the ship itself was unnatural, as unnatural as the purple tint of the sea.
He turned from the beauty of the moon to the stark black deck. In the moonlight, pools of what appeared to be blood glistened. Near by a human monstrosity stood and glared at him. The man's face was disfigured as though he had been mauled, and blood dripped from his lips. Another sailor near by had blood about his lips also; and as Lee Goona gazed upon him he extended a tongue that might have been that of a wolf, and licked the blood from his face. The act was bestial, for he seemed to lap up the blood with relish. Lee Goona had an uncomfortable feeling that the blood-stains had not been caused by the man’s own wounds.
Beyond him several musicians were playing softly on mandolins. They
