Page:An Antarctic Mystery.pdf/222

204 boatswain, who was careful to address him, although he rarely got a word in return. Dirk Peters took not the faintest notice of this state of things. He remained completely absorbed in his own thoughts, yet, had he heard West give the word to steer north, I know not to what acts of violence he might have been driven. He seemed to avoid me; was this from a desire not to compromise me?

On the 17th, in the afternoon, however, Dirk Peters manifested an intention of speaking to me, and never, no, never, could I have imagined what I was to learn in that interview.

It was about half-past two, and, not feeling well, I had gone to my cabin, where the side window was open, while that at the back was closed. I heard a knock at the door, and asked who was there.

"Dirk Peters," was the reply.

"You want to speak to me?"

"Yes."

"I am coming out."

"If you please—I should prefer—may I come into your cabin?"

"Come in."

He entered, and shut the door behind him.

Without rising I signed to him to seat himself in the arm-chair, but he remained standing.

"What do you want of me, Dirk Peters?" I asked at length, as he seemed unable to make up his mind to speak.

"I want to tell you something—because it seems well that you should know it, and you only. In the crew—they must never know it."