"And why shouldn't they?" demanded the First Officer. "It's their meeting, isn't it?"

"I met Miss Clinton as I was coming up. She was going to her room.

I asked her how the meeting was getting along. I don't believe she understood me, because all she said was 'good-night.'"

"I guess she understood you, all right," said Mr. Mott, again sniffing the air. "Seems to me it's getting a little nearer, Captain Trigger.

There's a little breeze coming up, too."

"A good thunder-storm,--" began the Captain, musingly, but failed to complete the sentence.

"Would settle something besides the dust," said Mr. Codge, after a deferential wait of a few seconds.

A figure detached itself from the ma.s.s on the weirdly lighted deck below and, approaching the perch of the three officers, came to a halt almost directly below them. The light of a lantern fell fairly on the upturned, smiling face of Olga Obosky.

"What is the hour, Captain Trigger?" she inquired.

"Almost nine, Madame Obosky.

"That is nearly two bells, eh, yes? How peaceful you look up there, you three old owls."

"Come up!" invited the Captain cheerily. She joined them a moment later.

"Tell me, are they leaving a shred of Percival and his band of outlaws?"

Mr. Codge struck a match and held it for her to light a cigarette.

She inhaled deeply and then expelled the smoke in what seemed like a prolonged sigh of satisfaction.

"They are very funny, those women," she said, placing her elbows on the rail and looking down at the crowd. "Do you know what the trouble is now? It is this: they cannot think of a way to condemn the action of those men as a body without also including Mr. Percivail in the verdict."

"How's that?"

"Ninety-five per cent, of them want to exonerate Mr. Percivail, but they don't know how to do it in view of the fact that he is the guiltiest man of them all. That's why I say they are very funny, those women. They approve of what he has done in naming the baby, because whatever he does must be right, but they are almost unanimous in charging that all the other men out there were wrong. So they are in a great dilemma."

Captain Trigger laughed. "I see. What was Miss Clinton's position in the debate?"

"Oh, she was one of those who insisted that Mr. Percivail alone be held accountable, the other men not at all. She was the chairman, you see, and they were oblige to listen to her at first. But zen, presently, one of those Brazilian ladies said it was a shame to put all the blame on dear Mr. Percivail, who is such a gentleman and so splendid and all zat,--and zen--then zat Mrs. Block jump up and say that if it was not for Mr. Percivail her husband would have been killed last week when he fell off of the landing into ten sousand feet of water. And the great Careni-Amori she get up and say she would die for Mr. Percivail because he is such a gentleman, and two of those nurses at the same time cry out that he ought to be in the hospital because he is so worn-out working for other people zat he can hardly drag his poor feet around. And so it goes. Miss Clinton has departed, her chin in the air. But she does not deceive me. She has gone to her room to have a good weeping."

"Well, I wish they'd get together on something," growled the Captain; "so's we can all go to bed and get a few hours' sleep."

"Like as not they're keeping the baby awake with all this jabbering,"

said Mr. Codge. "And that isn't good for babies, you know. They've got to have plenty of sleep. Specially little ones."

"Will you tell me, Captain Trigger, why Mr. Percivail did not come aboard tonight?" asked Olga suddenly. "They were expecting him."

"And they were disappointed, eh?"

"I dare say. At any rate, a good many of them kept peering out over the water most of the time, and listening for the sound of oars." She laughed softly.

The men chuckled. "Talk about strategy," said Mr. Mott, "he's a bird at it. Keeps 'em guessing, he does. By glory, I wish I'd known how to handle women as well as he does. I might have been married fifteen or twenty times if I could have kept 'em anxious and worried,--but I couldn't. I never did have any sense about women. That's why I'm a bachelor instead of a grandfather."

"He told Miss Clinton he was coming," said Olga, harking back to the unanswered question.

"I daresay he changed his mind," said the Captain, rather evasively.

"I do not believe zat. There is some other reason. He is not a woman, Captain Trigger."

"Well, to tell you the truth--but don't let it go any farther, Madame,--he came aboard just before supper to find out how Mrs. Cruise is getting along. Dr. Cullen told him exactly what all these women down there know,--that she's very low,--so he went ash.o.r.e. Said something about not wanting to take part in any racket that might disturb her,--noisy talk, and all that,--and left a bunch of wild flowers for her in case she was better by morning."

There was a slight noise behind them. Turning, they saw the figure of a woman in the shadow of the deck house.

"Who's there?" demanded Mr. Mott.

Ruth Clinton stepped forward into the light.

"Did he--did he do that?" she asked huskily.

"He did," said the Captain.

"And is she so very ill? I did not know, Captain Trigger."

"She's likely to die, Miss Clinton,--poor little woman."

Ruth was silent for a moment. Then: "Do you think she--she can hear all that hubbub down there?"

"I am sure she cannot. But Percival was afraid she could, so he--well, he thought it best not to make it any worse by adding his groans of agony when you women tore him limb from limb out here on deck. That's the way he put it, so don't look at me like that."

Ruth suddenly hung her head and walked away. As she disappeared down the steps, Mr. Codge remarked, sotto voce:

"She isn't as rabid as she was, is she?"

"She's got it in for Percival ever since he took that fall out of Landover," said Mr. Mott.

"Think she's--er--keen on Landover? He's a good bit older than she is,--twenty years or so, I should say."

"Don't ask me, Codge. As I was saying awhile ago, I don't know anything whatsoever about women. They know all about me, but, gosh, I'm worse than a baby goat where they're concerned. There's no law against her being in love with Landover, and there's no law against him marrying a woman fifty years younger'n himself if he feels like it. Now you take that good looking Russian over there talking to the Captain. Who knows what's in her mind? n.o.body, sir,--n.o.body. All I know is that Landover tried to--"

"Sh! They've got ears like cats," cautioned Mr. Codge.

"--And she put him in his place so quick it made his head swim. That's why he's got it in for her so hard. He says she's not fit for decent women to a.s.sociate with. On the other hand, if she had been willing to flirt a little with him, and so on, he would have said all the other women were cats if they refused to take up with her. That's a man all over for you, Codge. I hope Miss Clinton ain't considering getting married to that man. He's one of these here what-do-you-call-'ems? Er--"

"Sybarites?" said Codge, who had picked up a good deal from conversations with Peter Snipe.

"That ain't the word," said Mr. Mott. "Now, I'll lay awake all night trying to think of that word. d.a.m.n the luck!"

He fell into a profound state of mental concentration, from which he was aroused a few minutes later by the swift and almost unheralded shower that rushed up ahead of the thunderstorm. The rumble of the "apple carts" in the vault above had suddenly become ominous, and there were fitful flares of light in the blackness.

The indignation meeting broke up in a wild scurry of skirts. It is worthy of mention that nothing definite had transpired. The speeches of the ardent suffragettes from the wilds of London were all that the most exacting could have demanded, for they covered all of the known and a great many of the unsuspected iniquities that the masculine flesh is heir to, but except for an introductory sentence or two they failed to touch upon the object of the meeting. They all began with something like "While I am frank to admit that Doraine is a very pretty name," or "Notwithstanding the fact that Doraine is a lovely name," or "If I had a child of my own, I should not in the least object to calling her Doraine," and so on and so forth, but they cruelly abandoned the baby in the next breath, leaving it to be revived by the ensuing speaker.

The rain came just in time to prevent a vote being taken on a motion made by Miss Gladys Spotts. She moved that a committee of three be appointed to serve notice on Captain Trigger, et al, that it was the unanimous sense of the meeting that the women should not only have voice and vote on all public questions, but also representation in the official government. She had learned that there was talk of electing a mayor, a town clerk, a treasurer, a sheriff and a board of commissioners, and it ought to be understood in advance that--