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Updated: June 28, 2025
Aye, fear, and comprehension. "That oh, Boy, what do you mean to do?" I had been gaping, open-mouthed, too surprised to utter a sound. But her swift recognition, and her words, brought me to myself. Also, just then we heard Captain Swope's voice. He was in the saloon, calling out an order to the steward. We listened with strained attention, both of us.
A second glance, however, disclosed a smaller number of disconsolate cow ponies standing in front of the saloons and a larger number of family rigs tied to the horse rack in front of Swope's Store; there was also a tithing house with many doors, a brick church, and women and children galore.
For a moment I had feared the captain would blame me for Newman's absence. With the little squarehead's fate fresh in my mind I had no desire to foul Yankee Swope's temper. But I could not help thinking about Newman. His going was a mystery, and, moreover, I was sorry to see the last of him. I wondered why he had not stayed. It was not fear that made him clear out; of that I was certain.
Swope's bullet plowed through her mass of hair, creasing her so lightly the skin was unbroken, though the impact knocked her down. I was almost the only man on the ship who bore no marks of that fight, though I was a sight from the beating, and Lynch or perhaps it was Newman made me bo'sun of the deck in the labor of bringing order out of chaos.
Swope's book on page ninety-four, he says, "The campaign for the ruthless U-boat warfare is regarded by one man in this country who speaks with the highest German authority, as being in the nature of a threat intended to accelerate and force upon us a movement toward peace. Ambassador Gerard had his attention drawn to this just before he left Berlin but he declined to accept the interpretation."
He told the steward to open the lazaret hatch, and be sharp about it. I jerked my thumb over my shoulder, and nodded significantly to the lady. "Don't be afraid, ma'am," I whispered. "He isn't going to hurt Newman. He isn't going to hurt anyone not any more." Oh, the dread that showed in her face when we heard Swope's voice! She brought her hands into view, when I spoke.
His whole attention was riveted upon the companion stairs; Swope's voice sounded up there in the entrance to the hatch. Wong softly closed the door behind him, and ran on tiptoe across the saloon, disappearing into the pantry. I did not hesitate an instant. Wong had not locked the door behind him, and his room would be handy enough for my purpose.
Despite my efforts, I felt the blood in my cheeks, and my fingers clenched of their own accord. I thought how white was Yankee Swope's neck, and how near, and how easily I could reach out and choke the vile words in his throat. I very nearly lost my temper and with it, my life, and, I think, the other two lives, which I actually valued above my own.
He stood now almost at the forward poop rail, with his arms raised above his head; and he sent his voice forward in a stentorian hail, a cry that was like a thunderclap. "Stop fighting, lads! Stop it, I say! It is I Newman! Stop fighting and go for'ard!" If ever a human face showed amazement and discomfiture, Swope's did.
Oh, Swope was canny, as canny as he was cruel. He would provoke mutiny, but he would run no chance of losing his ship or his life. He was prepared. What could a few revolvers do against these entrenched men? My shipmates' revolt could have but one end mass murder and defeat! So I thought, as I lay there on the deck, watching my chance to slip aft. Swope's plan, Swope's mutiny, I thought.
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