The very movement of the earth seemed to be suspended when the great form blocked the door to the forecastle and the ringing voice called: "Harrigan!" At the summons Harrigan's jaw fell loosely like that of an exhausted distance-runner, and long-suppressed words grew achingly large in his throat.
"I've had enough!" he groaned.
"Harrigan!" thundered the captain, and Harrigan knew that his attempted speech had been merely a silent wish.
"God help me!" he whispered hoarsely, and in response to that brief prayer a warm pulse of strength flooded through him.

He sprang to his feet.
"I refuse to work!" he cried, and this time the sound echoed back against his ears.
There was a long pause.
"Mutiny!" said McTee at last, and his voice was harsh with the knowledge of his failure.

"Bring him outside in the open.

I'll deal with him!" He retreated from the door, but before any of the sailors could go in to fulfill the order, Harrigan walked of his own accord out onto the deck.

The wind on his face was sweet and keen; the vapors blew from eyes and brain.