The Max Brand Megapack Read Online Free PDF

Even then the captain might put him in irons rather than risk his escape.
    “Harrigan,” said McTee suddenly. “Don’t keep it up. You’re bound to break. Speak those words now that I told you to say and you’re a free man.”
    Harrigan looked up and the words formed at the base of his tongue. Harrigan looked down and saw his crimson hands. The words fell back like dust on his heart.
    “Take you for my master an’ swear to forget what you’ve done?” he said, and his voice was hardly more than a whisper. “McTee, if I promised you that I’d perjure blacker ’n hell an’ kill you someday when your back was turned. As it is, I’ll kill you while we’re standin’ face to face.”
    McTee laughed, low, deep, and his eyes were half closed as if he heard pleasant music. Harrigan grinned up at him.
    “I’ll kill you with my bare hands. There’s no gun or knife could do justice to what’s inside of me.”
    His head tilted back and his whisper went thick like that of a drunkard: “Ah-h, McTee, look at the hands, look at the hands! They’re red now for a sign av the blood av ye that’ll someday be on ’em!”
    And he picked up his bucket and brush and went down the deck. The laugh of McTee followed him.
    Having framed the wish in words, it was never absent from Harrigan’s mind now. It made that day easier for him. He stopped singing. He needed all his brain energy to think of how he should kill McTee.
    It was this hungry desire which sustained him during the days which followed. The rest of the crew began to sense the mighty emotion which consumed Harrigan. When they saw both him and McTee on the deck, their eyes traveled from one to the other making comparisons, for they felt that these men would one day meet hand to hand. They could not stay apart any more than the iron can keep from the magnet.
    Finally Harrigan knew that they were nearing the end of their long journey. The port was only a few days distant, for they were far in the south seas and they began to pass islands, and sometimes caught sight of green patches of water. Those were the coral reefs, the terror of all navigators, for they grow and change from year to year. To a light-draught ship like the Mary Rogers these seas were comparatively safe, but not altogether. Even small sailing craft had come to grief in those regions.
    Yet the islands, the reefs, the keen sun, the soft winds, the singing of the sailors, all these things came dimly to Harrigan, for he knew that his powers of resistance were almost worn away. His face was a mask of tragedy, and his body was as lean as a starved wolf in winter. His will to live, his will to hate, alone remained.
    Each morning it was harder for him to leave the bridge without speaking those words to the captain. He rehearsed them every day and vowed they would never pass his lips. And every day he knew that his vow was weaker. When he was about to give in, he chanced to see McTee and Kate Malone laughing together on the promenade.
    It was McTee who saw Harrigan first and pointed him out to Kate. She leaned against the rail and peered down at him, shuddering at the sight of his drawn face and shadowed eyes. Then she turned with a little shrug of repulsion.
    McTee must have made some humorous comment, for she turned to glance down at Harrigan again and this time she laughed. Blind rage made the blood of the Irishman hot. That gave him his last strength, but even this ran out. Finally he knew that the next day was his last, and when that day came, he counted the hours. They passed heavy-footed, as time goes for one condemned to die. And then he sat cross-legged on his bunk and waited.
    The giant Negro came, bringing word that the bos’n wanted him to scrub down the bridge. He remained with his head bowed, unhearing. The bos’n himself came, cursing. He called to Harrigan, and getting no answer shook him by the shoulder. He put his hand under Harrigan’s chin and raised the listless head. It rolled heavily back