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stern manner made Ostag Semmel wild with hatred, and when he went back to the forecastle after swabbing up the deck he was in a fit mental condition for almost any dark deed.

For a good half-hour he lay in his bunk in a corner, brooding over his ill-luck and wondering what he could do to revenge himself upon both the master of the schooner and Larry. Larry he especially disliked—the very open-heartedness of the young second mate made him long to do the lad harm.

At the end of the half-hour another sailor came in. It was Carl Peterson, his close friend. Peterson was a burly tar who had visited nearly every quarter of the globe. He loved to drink and carouse, and was ever ready to lend a hand in any excitement that offered. There was a rumor that he had once led a mutiny on a Danish merchant vessel, but this he denied, laying the blame entirely on others.

"Is that you, Peterson?" demanded Semmel, in