<h2>XII</h2></div>
<p>The <i>Nathan Ross</i> changed course that
day; and the word went around the ship.
It passed from man to man. There was whispering;
and there were dark looks, flung toward
Joel.</p>
<p>Joel kept the deck all day, silent, and watchful,
and waiting. Mark spoke to him once or
twice, asking what he meant to do. Joel told
him nothing. He had fought out his fight the
night before; he knew himself....</p>
<p>Mark and Finch talked together, during the
morning. Joel watched them without comment.
Later he saw Mark speak to the other
mates, one by one. At dinner in the cabin, the
mates were silent. Their eyes had something
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name='page_144' name='page_144'></SPAN>144</span>
of shame in them, and something of venomous
hate.... They already hated Joel, whom
they planned to wrong....</p>
<p>The day was fair, and the wind drove them
smoothly. There was no work to be done,
never a spout on the sea. Joel, watching once
or twice the whispering groups of idle men,
wished a whale might be sighted; and once he
sent Morrell and Varde to find tasks for the
men to do, and kept them at it through the long
afternoon, scraping, scrubbing, painting....</p>
<p>Priss kept to her cabin. When she did not
appear at breakfast, Joel went to her door and
knocked. She called to him: “I’ve a headache.
I’m going to rest.” He ordered that
food be sent to her....</p>
<p>He stayed on deck till late, that night; but
with the coming of night the ship had grown
quiet, and most of the men were below in the
fo’c’s’le. So at last Joel left the deck to Varde,
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name='page_145' name='page_145'></SPAN>145</span>
and went below. He sat down at his desk and
wrote up the day’s log....</p>
<p>Priss came to him there. She had been in
bed; and she wore a heavy dressing gown over
her night garments. Her hair was braided,
hanging across her shoulders. She sat down
beside the desk, and when Joel could fight back
the misery in his eyes, he looked toward her
and asked:</p>
<p>“Is your head—better?”</p>
<p>She said very quietly: “Joel, I want to
ask you something.”</p>
<p>He wanted her sympathy so terribly, and her
tone was so cool and so aloof that he winced;
but he said: “Very well?”</p>
<p>“Mark says he asked you to take the <i>Nathan
Ross</i> to get—the pearls he left on that island.
Is that true?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Joel.</p>
<p>“He says you would not do it.”
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name='page_146' name='page_146'></SPAN>146</span></p>
<p>“I will not do it,” Joel told her.</p>
<p>“He says,” said Priss quietly, “that you are
afraid. He says that was your own word ...
when he accused you. Is that true?”</p>
<p>If there had been any sympathy or understanding
in her voice or in her eyes, he would
have told her ... told her that it was for his
ship and not for himself that he was afraid.
But there was not. She was so cold and hard....
He would not seek to justify himself to
her....</p>
<p>“Yes,” he said quietly. “I used that word.”</p>
<p>She turned her eyes quickly away from his,
that he might not see the pain in hers.... She
rose to go back to her cabin....</p>
<p>As she reached the door, some one knocked on
the door that led to the main cabin; and without
waiting for word from Joel, that door
opened. Mark stood there. He came in, with
Finch, and Varde, and old Hooper and young
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name='page_147' name='page_147'></SPAN>147</span>
Morrell on his heels.... Priss shrank back
into her cabin, closed the door to a crack, listened....</p>
<p>Joel got to his feet. “What is it?” he
asked.</p>
<p>Mark bowed low, faced his brother with a
cold and triumphant smile. “These gentlemen
have asked me,” he explained, “to tell you that
we have decided to go fetch the pearls.”</p>
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<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name='page_148' name='page_148'></SPAN>148</span>
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