In the morning he discovered what he wanted to know.

The men were aloof from him.

He was conscious of eyes upon him whenever his back was turned, but while he faced them, no one would meet his glance.
In some way Hovey had learned that Harrigan was no longer to be trusted as a member of the mutineers, and he must have spread his tidings among the rest of the sailors.

What he sensed in those covert glances, however, was not an immediate danger, but rather a waiting--an expectancy, and he deduced rightly that they would not attempt to lay a hand upon him until the mutiny was started.

Then he would be reserved for some lingering death as a traitor doubly dyed.
While they were eating breakfast, Hovey came in late with the word that during the night someone had tampered with the dynamo, and the result was that the ship must complete her voyage without electric lights and--far more important--without the use of the wireless.