"'It lacks but twelve minutes of the hour,' said he. 'They's a clock hangin' behind you, sir.'
"He indicated a cheap American alarm clock. It was the last of a half dozen I had kept hanging from the roof of the cabin. I had kept them wound up, for the mere pleasure of hearing their busy ticking, but had never set them--never troubled to keep them running to the right time. When I looked up I was dismayed to find that the clock pointed to twelve minutes to twelve o'clock!
"''Tis not the right time,' I began. ''Tis far too----'
"'Hist!' said he. 'Don't speak. You've but eleven minutes left.'
"Thus we stood, the fisherman with his back to the door and the axe in his hand, and myself behind the counter, while the cheap American alarm clock ticked off the minutes of my life. Eleven--ten--nine! They were fast flying. I could think of no plan to dissuade him--no ruse to outwit him. Indeed, my mind was occupied more with putting the blame on that lying clock than with anything else. I had determined, of course, to make the best fight I could--to blow out the light at the moment of attack, dive under the counter, catch my man by the legs, overturn him and escape by the door or there fight it out. Nine minutes--eight--seven! At that moment I caught a long hail from the shore.
"I do not think the fisherman heard it. It was too faint--too far off; and he was too intent upon the thing he was to do.
"I wondered if Job had heard. The hail was repeated. Then I heard Skipper Job answer from the deck. At that the fisherman started; but his alarm passed in a moment.
"'Has you got a strange man aboard?' came from the shore.
"'Watch him,' from the shore. 'He's mad.'
"'Oh, he's all right,' Job called. 'He's harmless.'
"Then silence. My hope of relief vanished. I should have to make the fight, after all, I thought.
"Had Skipper Job gone below again? Or would he come aft? For two minutes not a word was said. My customer and I were waiting for the first stroke of twelve. Soon I heard voices forward; then the tramp of feet coming aft over the deck--treading softly. They paused by the house, and the whispering ceased. Was it a rescue, or was it not? I could not tell. The men above seemed to have no concern with me. But, indeed, they had.