“Your name?” asked Holmes.
“Patrick Cairns.”
“Harpooner?”
“Yes, sir. Twenty-six voyages.”
“Dundee, I suppose?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And ready to start with an exploring ship?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What wages?”
“Eight pounds a month.”
“Could you start at once?”
“As soon as I get my kit.”
“Have you your papers?”
“ Yes, sir.” He took a sheaf of worn and greasy forms from his pocket. Holmes glanced over them and returned them.
“You are just the man I want,” said he. “Here's the agreement on the side-table. If you sign it the whole matter will be settled.”
The seaman lurched across the room and took up the pen.
“Shall I sign here?” he asked, stooping over the table. Holmes leaned over his shoulder and passed both hands over his neck.
“This will do,” said he.
I heard a click of steel and a bellow like an enraged bull. The next instant Holmes and the seaman were rolling on the ground together. He was a man of such gigantic strength that, even with the handcuffs which Holmes had so deftly fastened upon his wrists, he would have very quickly overpowered my friend had Hopkins and I not rushed to his rescue. Only when I pressed the cold muzzle of the revolver to his temple did he at
