"You wondered how you were shanghaied and I was not. Well, I--I did it."
"He was a boyhood friend. He would do anything for me. It was through him."
"By God!" cried Beekman passionately, forgetting everything else as his life on that hell ship came back to him, as he recalled the brutal bullying and the miseries that he and all the other men had endured, and that last terrible scene in the cabin, which had stained his hands with the blood of man; and that it was in self-defense did not make the stain any less vivid. "You--my friend--the best man--at my wedding!"
Harnash, by a magnificent display of courage, kept his head erect and forced himself to look squarely into Beckman’s eyes. Maynard watched the two men with a curious interest as he might have watched a great dramatic climax in a play. Stephanie was fearfully concerned, yet she was proud of her lover, for in an utterly impossible position no man could bear himself with more courage and more dignity than Harnash exhibited then.
"Yes," he said, "you can’t say anything to me that I haven’t said to myself. You can’t characterize my conduct more bitterly than I have done."
"Damn you," cried Beekman, his quick temper entirely uppermost, and before anyone could say a word or interpose he leaped upon Harnash. He had only the use of his left hand, but with that he struck him a fearful blow on the side of his face. "When I think of all you made me suffer," he continued, "I could kill you."
"I call heaven to witness, and you all," cried Harnash, the blood flaming in his cheek beneath Beekman’s hand, "that I sustain this blow not because I fear but because I merit it. You see that Beekman’s right arm is helpless; I could kill him if I would, but I deserve it." He turned his face toward his friend. "Strike again," he said, with sublime, almost heroic, purpose; but Beekman’s hand fell.
What Harnash said was true. The two were not equally matched. Under ordinary circumstances Beekman was the stronger, but now the advantage was with the other man. "I couldn’t strike a second time a man who won’t strike back. If you would fight me I’d kill you with one hand. Why did you do it?"
Now it was Stephanie’s turn. She interposed.
"I would have carried it through. I refused to tell you the truth."