THE WRECK OF THE TITAN OR, FUTILITY BY MORGAN ROBERTSON AUTOGRAPH EDITION PUBLISHED BY McCLURE'S MAGAZINE AND METROPOLITAN MAGAZINE Copyright, 1898, by M. F. MANSFIELD Copyright, 1912, by MORGAN ROBERTSON _All rights reserved_ THE QUINN & BODEN CO. PRESS RAHWAY, N. J. CONTENTS THE WRECK OF THE TITAN 1 THE PIRATES 70 BEYOND THE SPECTRUM 207 IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 227 THE WRECK OF THE TITAN; OR FUTILITY THE WRECK OF THE TITAN CHAPTER I She was the largest craft afloat and the greatest of the works of men. In her construction and maintenance were involved every science, profession, and trade known to civilization. On her bridge wereofficers, who, besides being the pick of the Royal Navy, had passedrigid examinations in all studies that pertained to the winds, tides, currents, and geography of the sea; they were not only seamen, butscientists. The same professional standard applied to the personnel ofthe engine-room, and the steward's department was equal to that of afirst-class hotel. Two brass bands, two orchestras, and a theatrical company entertainedthe passengers during waking hours; a corps of physicians attended tothe temporal, and a corps of chaplains to the spiritual, welfare of allon board, while a well-drilled fire-company soothed the fears of nervousones and added to the general entertainment by daily practice with theirapparatus. From her lofty bridge ran hidden telegraph lines to the bow, sternengine-room, crow's-nest on the foremast, and to all parts of the shipwhere work was done, each wire terminating in a marked dial with amovable indicator, containing in its scope every order and answerrequired in handling the massive hulk, either at the dock or atsea--which eliminated, to a great extent, the hoarse, nerve-rackingshouts of officers and sailors. From the bridge, engine-room, and a dozen places on her deck theninety-two doors of nineteen water-tight compartments could be closed inhalf a minute by turning a lever. These doors would also closeautomatically in the presence of water. With nine compartments floodedthe ship would still float, and as no known accident of the sea couldpossibly fill this many, the steamship _Titan_ was consideredpractically unsinkable. Built of steel throughout, and for passenger traffic only, she carriedno combustible cargo to threaten her destruction by fire; and theimmunity from the demand for cargo space had enabled her designers todiscard the flat, kettle-bottom of cargo boats and give her the sharpdead-rise--or slant from the keel--of a steam yacht, and this improvedher behavior in a seaway. She was eight hundred feet long, of seventythousand tons' displacement, seventy-five thousand horse-power, and onher trial trip had steamed at a rate of twenty-five knots an hour overthe bottom, in the face of unconsidered winds, tides, and currents. Inshort, she was a floating city--containing within her steel walls allthat tends to minimize the dangers and discomforts of the Atlanticvoyage--all that makes life enjoyable. Unsinkable--indestructible, she carried as few boats as would satisfythe laws. These, twenty-four in number, were securely covered and lasheddown to their chocks on the upper deck, and if launched would hold fivehundred people. She carried no useless, cumbersome life-rafts;but--because the law required it--each of the three thousand berths inthe passengers', officers', and crew's quarters contained a cork jacket, while about twenty circular life-buoys were strewn along the rails. In view of her absolute superiority to other craft, a rule ofnavigation thoroughly believed in by some captains, but not yet openlyfollowed, was announced by the steamship company to apply to the_Titan_: She would steam at full speed in fog, storm, and sunshine, andon the Northern Lane Route, winter and summer, for the following goodand substantial reasons: First, that if another craft should strike her, the force of the impact would be distributed over a larger area if the_Titan_ had full headway, and the brunt of the damage would be borne bythe other. Second, that if the _Titan_ was the aggressor she wouldcertainly destroy the other craft, even at half-speed, and perhapsdamage her own bows; while at full speed, she would cut her in two withno more damage to herself than a paintbrush could remedy. In eithercase, as the lesser of two evils, it was best that the smaller hullshould suffer. A third reason was that, at full speed, she could be moreeasily steered out of danger, and a fourth, that in case of an end-oncollision with an iceberg--the only thing afloat that she could notconquer--her bows would be crushed in but a few feet further at fullthan at half speed, and at the most three compartments would beflooded--which would not matter with six more to spare. So, it was confidently expected that when her engines had limberedthemselves, the steamship _Titan_ would land her passengers threethousand miles away with the promptitude and regularity of a railwaytrain. She had beaten all records on her maiden voyage, but, up to thethird return trip, had not lowered the time between Sandy Hook andDaunt's Rock to the five-day limit; and it was unofficially rumoredamong the two thousand passengers who had embarked at New York that aneffort would now be made to do so. CHAPTER II Eight tugs dragged the great mass to midstream and pointed her nose downthe river; then the pilot on the bridge spoke a word or two; the firstofficer blew a short blast on the whistle and turned a lever; the tugsgathered in their lines and drew off; down in the bowels of the shipthree small engines were started, opening the throttles of three largeones; three propellers began to revolve; and the mammoth, with avibratory tremble running through her great frame, moved slowly to sea. East of Sandy Hook the pilot was dropped and the real voyage begun. Fifty feet below her deck, in an inferno of noise, and heat, and light, and shadow, coal-passers wheeled the picked fuel from the bunkers to thefire-hold, where half-naked stokers, with faces like those of torturedfiends, tossed it into the eighty white-hot mouths of the furnaces. Inthe engine-room, oilers passed to and fro, in and out of the plunging, twisting, glistening steel, with oil-cans and waste, overseen by thewatchful staff on duty, who listened with strained hearing for a falsenote in the confused jumble of sound--a clicking of steel out of tune, which would indicate a loosened key or nut. On deck, sailors set thetriangular sails on the two masts, to add their propulsion to themomentum of the record-breaker, and the passengers dispersed themselvesas suited their several tastes. Some were seated in steamer chairs, wellwrapped--for, though it was April, the salt air was chilly--some pacedthe deck, acquiring their sea legs; others listened to the orchestra inthe music-room, or read or wrote in the library, and a few took to theirberths--seasick from the slight heave of the ship on the ground-swell. The decks were cleared, watches set at noon, and then began thenever-ending cleaning-up at which steamship sailors put in so much oftheir time. Headed by a six-foot boatswain, a gang came aft on thestarboard side, with paint-buckets and brushes, and distributedthemselves along the rail. "Davits an' stanchions, men--never mind the rail, " said the boatswain. "Ladies, better move your chairs back a little. Rowland, climb down outo' that--you'll be overboard. Take a ventilator--no, you'll spillpaint--put your bucket away an' get some sandpaper from the yeoman. Workinboard till you get it out o' you. " The sailor addressed--a slight-built man of about thirty, black-beardedand bronzed to the semblance of healthy vigor, but watery-eyed andunsteady of movement--came down from the rail and shambled forward withhis bucket. As he reached the group of ladies to whom the boatswain hadspoken, his gaze rested on one--a sunny-haired young woman with the blueof the sea in her eyes--who had arisen at his approach. He started, turned aside as if to avoid her, and raising his hand in an embarrassedhalf-salute, passed on. Out of the boatswain's sight he leaned againstthe deck-house and panted, while he held his hand to his breast. "What is it?" he muttered, wearily; "whisky nerves, or the dying flutterof a starved love. Five years, now--and a look from her eyes can stopthe blood in my veins--can bring back all the heart-hunger andhelplessness, that leads a man to insanity--or this. " He looked at histrembling hand, all scarred and tar-stained, passed on forward, andreturned with the sandpaper. The young woman had been equally affected by the meeting. An expressionof mingled surprise and terror had come to her pretty, but rather weakface; and without acknowledging his half-salute, she had caught up alittle child from the deck behind her, and turning into the saloon door, hurried to the library, where she sank into a chair beside amilitary-looking gentleman, who glanced up from a book and remarked:"Seen the sea-serpent, Myra, or the Flying Dutchman? What's up?" "Oh, George--no, " she answered in agitated tones. "John Rowland ishere--Lieutenant Rowland. I've just seen him--he is so changed--he triedto speak to me. " "Who--that troublesome flame of yours? I never met him, you know, andyou haven't told me much about him. What is he--first cabin?" "No, he seems to be a common sailor; he is working, and is dressed inold clothes--all dirty. And such a dissipated face, too. He seems tohave fallen--so low. And it is all since--" "Since you soured on him? Well, it is no fault of yours, dear. If a manhas it in him he'll go to the dogs anyhow. How is his sense of injury?Has he a grievance or a grudge? You're badly upset. What did he say?" "I don't know--he said nothing--I've always been afraid of him. I've methim three times since then, and he puts such a frightful look in hiseyes--and he was so violent, and headstrong, and so terriblyangry, --that time. He accused me of leading him on, and playing withhim; and he said something about an immutable law of chance, and agoverning balance of events--that I couldn't understand, only where hesaid that for all the suffering we inflict on others, we receive anequal amount ourselves. Then he went away--in such a passion. I'veimagined ever since that he would take some revenge--he might steal ourMyra--our baby. " She strained the smiling child to her breast and wenton. "I liked him at first, until I found out that he was anatheist--why, George, he actually denied the existence of God--and tome, a professing Christian. " "He had a wonderful nerve, " said the husband, with a smile; "didn't knowyou very well, I should say. " "He never seemed the same to me after that, " she resumed; "I felt asthough in the presence of something unclean. Yet I thought how gloriousit would be if I could save him to God, and tried to convince him of theloving care of Jesus; but he only ridiculed all I hold sacred, and said, that much as he valued my good opinion, he would not be a hypocrite togain it, and that he would be honest with himself and others, andexpress his honest unbelief--the idea; as though one could be honestwithout God's help--and then, one day, I smelled liquor on hisbreath--he always smelled of tobacco--and I gave him up. It was thenthat he--that he broke out. " "Come out and show me this reprobate, " said the husband, rising. Theywent to the door and the young woman peered out. "He is the last mandown there--close to the cabin, " she said as she drew in. The husbandstepped out. "What! that hang-dog ruffian, scouring the ventilator? So, that'sRowland, of the navy, is it! Well, this is a tumble. Wasn't he brokenfor conduct unbecoming an officer? Got roaring drunk at the President'slevee, didn't he? I think I read of it. " "I know he lost his position and was terribly disgraced, " answered thewife. "Well, Myra, the poor devil is harmless now. We'll be across in a fewdays, and you needn't meet him on this broad deck. If he hasn't lost allsensibility, he's as embarrassed as you. Better stay in now--it'sgetting foggy. " CHAPTER III When the watch turned out at midnight, they found a vicious half-galeblowing from the northeast, which, added to the speed of the steamship, made, so far as effects on her deck went, a fairly uncomfortable wholegale of chilly wind. The head sea, choppy as compared with her greatlength, dealt the _Titan_ successive blows, each one attended bysupplementary tremors to the continuous vibrations of the engines--eachone sending a cloud of thick spray aloft that reached the crow's-nest onthe foremast and battered the pilot-house windows on the bridge in aliquid bombardment that would have broken ordinary glass. A fog-bank, into which the ship had plunged in the afternoon, still envelopedher--damp and impenetrable; and into the gray, ever-receding wall ahead, with two deck officers and three lookouts straining sight and hearing tothe utmost, the great racer was charging with undiminished speed. At a quarter past twelve, two men crawled in from the darkness at theends of the eighty-foot bridge and shouted to the first officer, who hadjust taken the deck, the names of the men who had relieved them. Backingup to the pilot-house, the officer repeated the names to a quartermasterwithin, who entered them in the log-book. Then the men vanished--totheir coffee and "watch-below. " In a few moments another dripping shapeappeared on the bridge and reported the crow's-nest relief. "Rowland, you say?" bawled the officer above the howling of the wind. "Is he the man who was lifted aboard, drunk, yesterday?" "Yes, sir. " "Is he still drunk?" "Yes, sir. " "All right--that'll do. Enter Rowland in the crow's-nest, quartermaster, " said the officer; then, making a funnel of his hands, heroared out: "Crow's-nest, there. " "Sir, " came the answer, shrill and clear on the gale. "Keep your eyes open--keep a sharp lookout. " "Very good, sir. " "Been a man-o'-war's-man, I judge, by his answer. They're no good, "muttered the officer. He resumed his position at the forward side of thebridge where the wooden railing afforded some shelter from the raw wind, and began the long vigil which would only end when the second officerrelieved him, four hours later. Conversation--except in the line ofduty--was forbidden among the bridge officers of the _Titan_, and hiswatchmate, the third officer, stood on the other side of the largebridge binnacle, only leaving this position occasionally to glance in atthe compass--which seemed to be his sole duty at sea. Sheltered by oneof the deck-houses below, the boatswain and the watch paced back andforth, enjoying the only two hours respite which steamship rulesafforded, for the day's work had ended with the going down of the otherwatch, and at two o'clock the washing of the 'tween-deck would begin, asan opening task in the next day's labor. By the time one bell had sounded, with its repetition from thecrow's-nest, followed by a long-drawn cry--"all's well"--from thelookouts, the last of the two thousand passengers had retired, leavingthe spacious cabins and steerage in possession of the watchmen; while, sound asleep in his cabin abaft the chart-room was the captain, thecommander who never commanded--unless the ship was in danger; for thepilot had charge, making and leaving port, and the officers, at sea. Two bells were struck and answered; then three, and the boatswain andhis men were lighting up for a final smoke, when there rang out overheada startling cry from the crow's-nest: "Something ahead, sir--can't make it out. " The first officer sprang to the engine-room telegraph and grasped thelever. "Sing out what you see, " he roared. "Hard aport, sir--ship on the starboard tack--dead ahead, " came the cry. "Port your wheel--hard over, " repeated the first officer to thequartermaster at the helm--who answered and obeyed. Nothing as yet couldbe seen from the bridge. The powerful steering-engine in the sternground the rudder over; but before three degrees on the compass cardwere traversed by the lubber's-point, a seeming thickening of thedarkness and fog ahead resolved itself into the square sails of adeep-laden ship, crossing the _Titan's_ bow, not half her length away. "H--l and d--" growled the first officer. "Steady on your course, quartermaster, " he shouted. "Stand from under on deck. " He turned alever which closed compartments, pushed a button marked--"Captain'sRoom, " and crouched down, awaiting the crash. There was hardly a crash. A slight jar shook the forward end of the_Titan_ and sliding down her fore-topmast-stay and rattling on deck camea shower of small spars, sails, blocks, and wire rope. Then, in thedarkness to starboard and port, two darker shapes shot by--the twohalves of the ship she had cut through; and from one of these shapes, where still burned a binnacle light, was heard, high above the confusedmurmur of shouts and shrieks, a sailorly voice: "May the curse of God light on you and your cheese-knife, youbrass-bound murderers. " The shapes were swallowed in the blackness astern; the cries were hushedby the clamor of the gale, and the steamship _Titan_ swung back to hercourse. The first officer had not turned the lever of the engine-roomtelegraph. The boatswain bounded up the steps of the bridge for instructions. "Put men at the hatches and doors. Send every one who comes on deck tothe chart-room. Tell the watchman to notice what the passengers havelearned, and clear away that wreck forward as soon as possible. " Thevoice of the officer was hoarse and strained as he gave thesedirections, and the "aye, aye, sir" of the boatswain was uttered in agasp. CHAPTER IV The crow's-nest "lookout, " sixty feet above the deck, had seen everydetail of the horror, from the moment when the upper sails of the doomedship had appeared to him above the fog to the time when the last tangleof wreckage was cut away by his watchmates below. When relieved at fourbells, he descended with as little strength in his limbs as wascompatible with safety in the rigging. At the rail, the boatswain methim. "Report your relief, Rowland, " he said, "and go into the chart-room!" On the bridge, as he gave the name of his successor, the first officerseized his hand, pressed it, and repeated the boatswain's order. In thechart-room, he found the captain of the _Titan_, pale-faced and intensein manner, seated at a table, and, grouped around him, the whole of thewatch on deck except the officers, lookouts, and quartermasters. Thecabin watchmen were there, and some of the watch below, among whom werestokers and coal-passers, and also, a few of the idlers--lampmen, yeomen, and butchers, who, sleeping forward, had been awakened by theterrific blow of the great hollow knife within which they lived. Three carpenters' mates stood by the door, with sounding-rods in theirhands, which they had just shown the captain--dry. Every face, from thecaptain's down, wore a look of horror and expectancy. A quartermasterfollowed Rowland in and said: "Engineer felt no jar in the engine-room, sir; and there's no excitementin the stokehold. " "And you watchmen report no alarm in the cabins. How about the steerage?Is that man back?" asked the captain. Another watchman appeared as hespoke. "All asleep in the steerage, sir, " he said. Then a quartermaster enteredwith the same report of the forecastles. "Very well, " said the captain, rising; "one by one come into myoffice--watchmen first, then petty officers, then the men. Quartermasters will watch the door--that no man goes out until I haveseen him. " He passed into another room, followed by a watchman, whopresently emerged and went on deck with a more pleasant expression offace. Another entered and came out; then another, and another, untilevery man but Rowland had been within the sacred precincts, all to wearthe same pleased, or satisfied, look on reappearing. When Rowlandentered, the captain, seated at a desk, motioned him to a chair, andasked his name. "John Rowland, " he answered. The captain wrote it down. "I understand, " he said, "that you were in the crow's-nest when thisunfortunate collision occurred. " "Yes, sir; and I reported the ship as soon as I saw her. " "You are not here to be censured. You are aware, of course, that nothingcould be done, either to avert this terrible calamity, or to save lifeafterward. " "Nothing at a speed of twenty-five knots an hour in a thick fog, sir. "The captain glanced sharply at Rowland and frowned. "We will not discuss the speed of the ship, my good man, " he said, "orthe rules of the company. You will find, when you are paid at Liverpool, a package addressed to you at the company's office containing onehundred pounds in banknotes. This, you will receive for your silence inregard to this collision--the reporting of which would embarrass thecompany and help no one. " "On the contrary, captain, I shall not receive it. On the contrary, sir, I shall speak of this wholesale murder at the first opportunity!" The captain leaned back and stared at the debauched face, the tremblingfigure of the sailor, with which this defiant speech so little accorded. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have sent him on deck to be dealtwith by the officers. But this was not an ordinary circumstance. In thewatery eyes was a look of shock, and horror, and honest indignation; theaccents were those of an educated man; and the consequences hanging overhimself and the company for which he worked--already complicated by andinvolved in his efforts to avoid them--which this man might precipitate, were so extreme, that such questions as insolence and difference in rankwere not to be thought of. He must meet and subdue this Tartar on commonground--as man to man. "Are you aware, Rowland, " he asked, quietly, "that you will standalone--that you will be discredited, lose your berth, and make enemies?" "I am aware of more than that, " answered Rowland, excitedly. "I know ofthe power vested in you as captain. I know that you can order me intoirons from this room for any offense you wish to imagine. And I knowthat an unwitnessed, uncorroborated entry in your official logconcerning me would be evidence enough to bring me life imprisonment. But I also know something of admiralty law; that from my prison cell Ican send you and your first officer to the gallows. " "You are mistaken in your conceptions of evidence. I could not causeyour conviction by a log-book entry; nor could you, from a prison, injure me. What are you, may I ask--an ex-lawyer?" "A graduate of Annapolis. Your equal in professional technic. " "And you have interest at Washington?" "None whatever. " "And what is your object in taking this stand--which can do you nopossible good, though certainly not the harm you speak of?" "That I may do one good, strong act in my useless life--that I may helpto arouse such a sentiment of anger in the two countries as will foreverend this wanton destruction of life and property for the sake ofspeed--that will save the hundreds of fishing-craft, and others, rundown yearly, to their owners, and the crews to their families. " Both men had risen and the captain was pacing the floor as Rowland, withflashing eyes and clinched fists, delivered this declaration. "A result to be hoped for, Rowland, " said the former, pausing beforehim, "but beyond your power or mine to accomplish. Is the amount I namedlarge enough? Could you fill a position on my bridge?" "I can fill a higher; and your company is not rich enough to buy me. " "You seem to be a man without ambition; but you must have wants. " "Food, clothing, shelter--and whisky, " said Rowland with a bitter, self-contemptuous laugh. The captain reached down a decanter and twoglasses from a swinging tray and said as he placed them before him: "Here is one of your wants; fill up. " Rowland's eyes glistened as hepoured out a glassful, and the captain followed. "I will drink with you, Rowland, " he said; "here is to our betterunderstanding. " He tossed off the liquor; then Rowland, who had waited, said: "I prefer drinking alone, captain, " and drank the whisky at agulp. The captain's face flushed at the affront, but he controlledhimself. "Go on deck, now, Rowland, " he said; "I will talk with you again beforewe reach soundings. Meanwhile, I request--not require, but request--thatyou hold no useless conversation with your shipmates in regard to thismatter. " To the first officer, when relieved at eight bells, the captain said:"He is a broken-down wreck with a temporarily active conscience; but isnot the man to buy or intimidate: he knows too much. However, we'vefound his weak point. If he gets snakes before we dock, his testimony isworthless. Fill him up and I'll see the surgeon, and study up on drugs. " When Rowland turned out to breakfast at seven bells that morning, hefound a pint flask in the pocket of his pea-jacket, which he felt of butdid not pull out in sight of his watchmates. "Well, captain, " he thought, "you are, in truth, about as puerile, insipid a scoundrel as ever escaped the law. I'll save you your druggedDutch courage for evidence. " But it was not drugged, as he learnedlater. It was good whisky--a leader--to warm his stomach while thecaptain was studying. CHAPTER V An incident occurred that morning which drew Rowland's thoughts far fromthe happenings of the night. A few hours of bright sunshine had broughtthe passengers on deck like bees from a hive, and the two broadpromenades resembled, in color and life, the streets of a city. Thewatch was busy at the inevitable scrubbing, and Rowland, with a swab andbucket, was cleaning the white paint on the starboard taffrail, screenedfrom view by the after deck-house, which shut off a narrow space at thestern. A little girl ran into the inclosure, laughing and screaming, andclung to his legs, while she jumped up and down in an overflow ofspirits. "I wunned 'way, " she said; "I wunned 'way from mamma. " Drying his wet hands on his trousers, Rowland lifted the tot and said, tenderly: "Well, little one, you must run back to mamma. You're in badcompany. " The innocent eyes smiled into his own, and then--a foolishproceeding, which only bachelors are guilty of--he held her above therail in jesting menace. "Shall I drop you over to the fishes, baby?" heasked, while his features softened to an unwonted smile. The child gavea little scream of fright, and at that instant a young woman appearedaround the corner. She sprang toward Rowland like a tigress, snatchedthe child, stared at him for a moment with dilated eyes, and thendisappeared, leaving him limp and nerveless, breathing hard. "It is her child, " he groaned. "That was the mother-look. She ismarried--married. " He resumed his work, with a face as near the color ofthe paint he was scrubbing as the tanned skin of a sailor may become. Ten minutes later, the captain, in his office, was listening to acomplaint from a very excited man and woman. "And you say, colonel, " said the captain, "that this man Rowland is anold enemy?" "He is--or was once--a rejected admirer of Mrs. Selfridge. That is all Iknow of him--except that he has hinted at revenge. My wife is certain ofwhat she saw, and I think the man should be confined. " "Why, captain, " said the woman, vehemently, as she hugged her child, "you should have seen him; he was just about to drop Myra over as Iseized her--and he had such a frightful leer on his face, too. Oh, itwas hideous. I shall not sleep another wink in this ship--I know. " "I beg you will give yourself no uneasiness, madam, " said the captain, gravely. "I have already learned something of his antecedents--that heis a disgraced and broken-down naval officer; but, as he has sailedthree voyages with us, I had credited his willingness to workbefore-the-mast to his craving for liquor, which he could not satisfywithout money. However--as you think--he may be following you. Was heable to learn of your movements--that you were to take passage in thisship?" "Why not?" exclaimed the husband; "he must know some of Mrs. Selfridge'sfriends. " "Yes, yes, " she said, eagerly; "I have heard him spoken of, severaltimes. " "Then it is clear, " said the captain. "If you will agree, madam, totestify against him in the English courts, I will immediately put him inirons for attempted murder. " "Oh, do, captain, " she exclaimed. "I cannot feel safe while he is atliberty. Of course I will testify. " "Whatever you do, captain, " said the husband, savagely, "rest assuredthat I shall put a bullet through his head if he meddles with me or mineagain. Then you can put me in irons. " "I will see that he is attended to, colonel, " replied the captain as hebowed them out of his office. But, as a murder charge is not always the best way to discredit a man;and as the captain did not believe that the man who had defied him wouldmurder a child; and as the charge would be difficult to prove in anycase, and would cause him much trouble and annoyance, he did not orderthe arrest of John Rowland, but merely directed that, for the time, heshould be kept at work by day in the 'tween-deck, out of sight of thepassengers. Rowland, surprised at his sudden transfer from the disagreeablescrubbing to a "soldier's job" of painting life-buoys in the warm'tween-deck, was shrewd enough to know that he was being closely watchedby the boatswain that morning, but not shrewd enough to affect anysymptoms of intoxication or drugging, which might have satisfied hisanxious superiors and brought him more whisky. As a result of hisbrighter eyes and steadier voice--due to the curative sea air--when heturned out for the first dog-watch on deck at four o'clock, the captainand boatswain held an interview in the chart-room, in which the formersaid: "Do not be alarmed. It is not poison. He is half-way into thehorrors now, and this will merely bring them on. He will see snakes, ghosts, goblins, shipwrecks, fire, and all sorts of things. It works intwo or three hours. Just drop it into his drinking pot while the portforecastle is empty. " There was a fight in the port forecastle--to which Rowland belonged--atsupper-time, which need not be described beyond mention of the fact thatRowland, who was not a participant, had his pot of tea dashed from hishand before he had taken three swallows. He procured a fresh supply andfinished his supper; then, taking no part in his watchmates' opendiscussion of the fight, and guarded discussion of collisions, rolledinto his bunk and smoked until eight bells, when he turned out with therest. CHAPTER VI "Rowland, " said the big boatswain, as the watch mustered on deck; "takethe starboard bridge lookout. " "It is not my trick, boats'n, " said Rowland, in surprise. "Orders from the bridge. Get up there. " Rowland grumbled, as sailors may when aggrieved, and obeyed. The man herelieved reported his name, and disappeared; the first officer sauntereddown the bridge, uttered the official, "keep a good lookout, " andreturned to his post; then the silence and loneliness of a night-watchat sea, intensified by the never-ceasing hum of the engines, andrelieved only by the sounds of distant music and laughter from thetheater, descended on the forward part of the ship. For the freshwesterly wind, coming with the _Titan_, made nearly a calm on her deck;and the dense fog, though overshone by a bright star-specked sky, was sochilly that the last talkative passenger had fled to the light and lifewithin. When three bells--half-past nine--had sounded, and Rowland had given inhis turn the required call--"all's well"--the first officer left hispost and approached him. "Rowland, " he said as he drew near; "I hear you've walked thequarter-deck. " "I cannot imagine how you learned it, sir, " replied Rowland; "I am notin the habit of referring to it. " "You told the captain. I suppose the curriculum is as complete atAnnapolis as at the Royal Naval College. What do you think of Maury'stheories of currents?" "They seem plausible, " said Rowland, unconsciously dropping the "sir";"but I think that in most particulars he has been proven wrong. " "Yes, I think so myself. Did you ever follow up another idea ofhis--that of locating the position of ice in a fog by the rate ofdecrease in temperature as approached?" "Not to any definite result. But it seems to be only a matter ofcalculation, and time to calculate. Cold is negative heat, and can betreated like radiant energy, decreasing as the square of the distance. " The officer stood a moment, looking ahead and humming a tune to himself;then, saying: "Yes, that's so, " returned to his place. "Must have a cast-iron stomach, " he muttered, as he peered into thebinnacle; "or else the boats'n dosed the wrong man's pot. " Rowland glanced after the retreating officer with a cynical smile. "Iwonder, " he said to himself, "why he comes down here talking navigationto a foremast hand. Why am I up here--out of my turn? Is this somethingin line with that bottle?" He resumed the short pacing back and forth onthe end of the bridge, and the rather gloomy train of thought which theofficer had interrupted. "How long, " he mused, "would his ambition and love of profession lasthim after he had met, and won, and lost, the only woman on earth to him?Why is it--that failure to hold the affections of one among themillions of women who live, and love, can outweigh every blessing inlife, and turn a man's nature into a hell, to consume him? Who did shemarry? Some one, probably a stranger long after my banishment, who cameto her possessed of a few qualities of mind or physique that pleasedher, --who did not need to love her--his chances were better withoutthat--and he steps coolly and easily into my heaven. And they tell us, that 'God doeth all things well, ' and that there is a heaven where allour unsatisfied wants are attended to--provided we have the necessaryfaith in it. That means, if it means anything, that after a lifetime ofunrecognized allegiance, during which I win nothing but her fear andcontempt, I may be rewarded by the love and companionship of her soul. Do I love her soul? Has her soul beauty of face and the figure andcarriage of a Venus? Has her soul deep, blue eyes and a sweet, musicalvoice? Has it wit, and grace, and charm? Has it a wealth of pity forsuffering? These are the things I loved. I do not love her soul, if shehas one. I do not want it. I want her--I need her. " He stopped in hiswalk and leaned against the bridge railing, with eyes fixed on the fogahead. He was speaking his thoughts aloud now, and the first officerdrew within hearing, listened a moment, and went back. "Working on him, "he whispered to the third officer. Then he pushed the button whichcalled the captain, blew a short blast of the steam whistle as a call tothe boatswain, and resumed his watch on the drugged lookout, while thethird officer conned the ship. The steam call to the boatswain is so common a sound on a steamship asto generally pass unnoticed. This call affected another besides theboatswain. A little night-gowned figure arose from an under berth in asaloon stateroom, and, with wide-open, staring eyes, groped its way tothe deck, unobserved by the watchman. The white, bare little feet feltno cold as they pattered the planks of the deserted promenade, and thelittle figure had reached the steerage entrance by the time the captainand boatswain had reached the bridge. "And they talk, " went on Rowland, as the three watched and listened; "ofthe wonderful love and care of a merciful God, who controls allthings--who has given me my defects, and my capacity for loving, andthen placed Myra Gaunt in my way. Is there mercy to me in this? As partof a great evolutionary principle, which develops the race life at theexpense of the individual, it might be consistent with the idea of aGod--a first cause. But does the individual who perishes, becauseunfitted to survive, owe any love, or gratitude to this God? He doesnot! On the supposition that He exists, I deny it! And on the completelack of evidence that He does exist, I affirm to myself the integrity ofcause and effect--which is enough to explain the Universe, and me. Amerciful God--a kind, loving, just, and merciful God--" he burst into afit of incongruous laughter, which stopped short as he clapped his handsto his stomach and then to his head. "What ails me?" he gasped; "I feelas though I had swallowed hot coals--and my head--and my eyes--I can'tsee. " The pain left him in a moment and the laughter returned. "What'swrong with the starboard anchor? It's moving. It's changing. It'sa--what? What on earth is it? On end--and the windlass--and the spareanchors--and the davits--all alive--all moving. " The sight he saw would have been horrid to a healthy mind, but it onlymoved this man to increased and uncontrollable merriment. The two railsbelow leading to the stem had arisen before him in a shadowy triangle;and within it were the deck-fittings he had mentioned. The windlass hadbecome a thing of horror, black and forbidding. The two end barrels werethe bulging, lightless eyes of a non-descript monster, for which thecable chains had multiplied themselves into innumerable legs andtentacles. And this thing was crawling around within the triangle. Theanchor-davits were many-headed serpents which danced on their tails, andthe anchors themselves writhed and squirmed in the shape of immensehairy caterpillars, while faces appeared on the two whitelantern-towers--grinning and leering at him. With his hands on thebridge rail, and tears streaming down his face, he laughed at thestrange sight, but did not speak; and the three, who had quietlyapproached, drew back to await, while below on the promenade deck, thelittle white figure, as though attracted by his laughter, turned intothe stairway leading to the upper deck. The phantasmagoria faded to a blank wall of gray fog, and Rowland foundsanity to mutter, "They've drugged me"; but in an instant he stood inthe darkness of a garden--one that he had known. In the distance werethe lights of a house, and close to him was a young girl, who turnedfrom him and fled, even as he called to her. By a supreme effort of will, he brought himself back to the present, tothe bridge he stood upon, and to his duty. "Why must it haunt me throughthe years?" he groaned; "drunk then--drunk since. She could have savedme, but she chose to damn me. " He strove to pace up and down, butstaggered, and clung to the rail; while the three watchers approachedagain, and the little white figure below climbed the upper bridge steps. "The survival of the fittest, " he rambled, as he stared into the fog;"cause and effect. It explains the Universe--and me. " He lifted his handand spoke loudly, as though to some unseen familiar of the deep. "Whatwill be the last effect? Where in the scheme of ultimate balance--underthe law of the correlation of energy, will my wasted wealth of love begathered, and weighed, and credited? What will balance it, and wherewill I be? Myra, --Myra, " he called; "do you know what you have lost? Doyou know, in your goodness, and purity, and truth, of what you havedone? Do you know--" The fabric on which he stood was gone, and he seemed to be poised onnothing in a worldless universe of gray--alone. And in the vast, limitless emptiness there was no sound, or life, or change; and in hisheart neither fear, nor wonder, nor emotion of any kind, save one--theunspeakable hunger of a love that had failed. Yet it seemed that he wasnot John Rowland, but some one, or something else; for presently he sawhimself, far away--millions of billions of miles; as though on theoutermost fringes of the void--and heard his own voice, calling. Faintly, yet distinctly, filled with the concentrated despair of hislife, came the call: "Myra, --Myra. " There was an answering call, and looking for the second voice, he beheldher--the woman of his love--on the opposite edge of space; and her eyesheld the tenderness, and her voice held the pleading that he had knownbut in dreams. "Come back, " she called; "come back to me. " But it seemedthat the two could not understand; for again he heard the despairingcry: "Myra, Myra, where are you?" and again the answer: "Come back. Come. " Then in the far distance to the right appeared a faint point of flame, which grew larger. It was approaching, and he dispassionately viewed it;and when he looked again for the two, they were gone, and in theirplaces were two clouds of nebula, which resolved into myriad points ofsparkling light and color--whirling, encroaching, until they filled allspace. And through them the larger light was coming--and growinglarger--straight for him. He heard a rushing sound, and looking for it, saw in the oppositedirection a formless object, as much darker than the gray of the void asthe flame was brighter, and it too was growing larger, and coming. Andit seemed to him that this light and darkness were the good and evil ofhis life, and he watched, to see which would reach him first, but feltno surprise or regret when he saw that the darkness was nearest. Itcame, closer and closer, until it brushed him on the side. "What have we here, Rowland?" said a voice. Instantly, the whirlingpoints were blotted out; the universe of gray changed to the fog; theflame of light to the moon rising above it, and the shapeless darknessto the form of the first officer. The little white figure, which hadjust darted past the three watchers, stood at his feet. As though warnedby an inner subconsciousness of danger, it had come in its sleep, forsafety and care, to its mother's old lover--the strong and the weak--thedegraded and disgraced, but exalted--the persecuted, drugged, and allbut helpless John Rowland. With the readiness with which a man who dozes while standing will answerthe question that wakens him, he said--though he stammered from the nowwaning effect of the drug: "Myra's child, sir; it's asleep. " He pickedup the night-gowned little girl, who screamed as she wakened, and foldedhis pea-jacket around the cold little body. "Who is Myra?" asked the officer in a bullying tone, in which were alsochagrin and disappointment. "You've been asleep yourself. " Before Rowland could reply a shout from the crow's-nest split the air. "Ice, " yelled the lookout; "ice ahead. Iceberg. Right under the bows. "The first officer ran amidships, and the captain, who had remainedthere, sprang to the engine-room telegraph, and this time the lever wasturned. But in five seconds the bow of the _Titan_ began to lift, andahead, and on either hand, could be seen, through the fog, a field ofice, which arose in an incline to a hundred feet high in her track. Themusic in the theater ceased, and among the babel of shouts and cries, and the deafening noise of steel, scraping and crashing over ice, Rowland heard the agonized voice of a woman crying from the bridgesteps: "Myra--Myra, where are you? Come back. " CHAPTER VII Seventy-five thousand tons--dead-weight--rushing through the fog at therate of fifty feet a second, had hurled itself at an iceberg. Had theimpact been received by a perpendicular wall, the elastic resistance ofbending plates and frames would have overcome the momentum with no moredamage to the passengers than a severe shaking up, and to the ship thanthe crushing in of her bows and the killing, to a man, of the watchbelow. She would have backed off, and, slightly down by the head, finished the voyage at reduced speed, to rebuild on insurance money, andbenefit, largely, in the end, by the consequent advertising of herindestructibility. But a low beach, possibly formed by the recentoverturning of the berg, received the _Titan_, and with her keel cuttingthe ice like the steel runner of an ice-boat, and her great weightresting on the starboard bilge, she rose out of the sea, higher andhigher--until the propellers in the stern were half exposed--then, meeting an easy, spiral rise in the ice under her port bow, she heeled, overbalanced, and crashed down on her side, to starboard. The holding-down bolts of twelve boilers and three triple-expansionengines, unintended to hold such weights from a perpendicular flooring, snapped, and down through a maze of ladders, gratings, and fore-and-aftbulkheads came these giant masses of steel and iron, puncturing thesides of the ship, even where backed by solid, resisting ice; andfilling the engine- and boiler-rooms with scalding steam, which broughta quick, though tortured death, to each of the hundred men on duty inthe engineer's department. Amid the roar of escaping steam, and the bee-like buzzing of nearlythree thousand human voices, raised in agonized screams and callingsfrom within the inclosing walls, and the whistling of air throughhundreds of open deadlights as the water, entering the holes of thecrushed and riven starboard side, expelled it, the _Titan_ moved slowlybackward and launched herself into the sea, where she floated low on herside--a dying monster, groaning with her death-wound. A solid, pyramid-like hummock of ice, left to starboard as the steamerascended, and which projected close alongside the upper, or boat-deck, as she fell over, had caught, in succession, every pair of davits tostarboard, bending and wrenching them, smashing boats, and snappingtackles and gripes, until, as the ship cleared herself, it capped thepile of wreckage strewing the ice in front of, and around it, with theend and broken stanchions of the bridge. And in this shattered, box-likestructure, dazed by the sweeping fall through an arc of seventy-footradius, crouched Rowland, bleeding from a cut in his head, and stillholding to his breast the little girl--now too frightened to cry. By an effort of will, he aroused himself and looked. To his eyesight, twisted and fixed to a shorter focus by the drug he had taken, thesteamship was little more than a blotch on the moon-whitened fog; yet hethought he could see men clambering and working on the upper davits, andthe nearest boat--No. 24--seemed to be swinging by the tackles. Then thefog shut her out, though her position was still indicated by the roaringof steam from her iron lungs. This ceased in time, leaving behind it thehorrid humming sound and whistling of air; and when this too wassuddenly hushed, and the ensuing silence broken by dull, boomingreports--as from bursting compartments--Rowland knew that the holocaustwas complete; that the invincible _Titan_, with nearly all of herpeople, unable to climb vertical floors and ceilings, was beneath thesurface of the sea. Mechanically, his benumbed faculties had received and recorded theimpressions of the last few moments; he could not comprehend, to thefull, the horror of it all. Yet his mind was keenly alive to the perilof the woman whose appealing voice he had heard and recognized--thewoman of his dream, and the mother of the child in his arms. He hastilyexamined the wreckage. Not a boat was intact. Creeping down to thewater's edge, he hailed, with all the power of his weak voice, topossible, but invisible boats beyond the fog--calling on them to comeand save the child--to look out for a woman who had been on deck, underthe bridge. He shouted this woman's name--the one that heknew--encouraging her to swim, to tread water, to float on wreckage, andto answer him, until he came to her. There was no response, and when hisvoice had grown hoarse and futile, and his feet numb from the cold ofthe thawing ice, he returned to the wreckage, weighed down and all butcrushed by the blackest desolation that had, so far, come into hisunhappy life. The little girl was crying and he tried to soothe her. "I want mamma, " she wailed. "Hush, baby, hush, " he answered, wearily and bitterly; "so do I--morethan Heaven, but I think our chances are about even now. Are you cold, little one? We'll go inside, and I'll make a house for us. " He removed his coat, tenderly wrapped the little figure in it, and withthe injunction: "Don't be afraid, now, " placed her in the corner of thebridge, which rested on its forward side. As he did so, the bottle ofwhisky fell out of the pocket. It seemed an age since he had found itthere, and it required a strong effort of reasoning before he rememberedits full significance. Then he raised it, to hurl it down the incline ofice, but stopped himself. "I'll keep it, " he muttered; "it may be safe in small quantities, andwe'll need it on this ice. " He placed it in a corner; then, removing thecanvas cover from one of the wrecked boats, he hung it over the openside and end of the bridge, crawled within, and donned his coat--aready-made, slop-chest garment, designed for a larger man--and buttoningit around himself and the little girl, lay down on the hard woodwork. She was still crying, but soon, under the influence of the warmth of hisbody, ceased and went to sleep. Huddled in a corner, he gave himself up to the torment of his thoughts. Two pictures alternately crowded his mind; one, that of the woman of hisdream, entreating him to come back--which his memory clung to as anoracle; the other, of this woman, cold and lifeless, fathoms deep in thesea. He pondered on her chances. She was close to, or on the bridgesteps; and boat No. 24, which he was almost sure was being cleared awayas he looked, would swing close to her as it descended. She could climbin and be saved--unless the swimmers from doors and hatches should swampthe boat. And, in his agony of mind, he cursed these swimmers, preferring to see her, mentally, the only passenger in the boat, withthe watch-on-deck to pull her to safety. The potent drug he had taken was still at work, and this, with themusical wash of the sea on the icy beach, and the muffled creaking andcrackling beneath and around him--the voice of the iceberg--overcame himfinally, and he slept, to waken at daylight with limbs stiffened andnumb--almost frozen. And all night, as he slept, a boat with the number twenty-four on herbow, pulled by sturdy sailors and steered by brass-buttoned officers, was making for the Southern Lane--the highway of spring traffic. And, crouched in the stern-sheets of this boat was a moaning, praying woman, who cried and screamed at intervals, for husband and baby, and would notbe comforted, even when one of the brass-buttoned officers assured herthat her child was safe in the care of John Rowland, a brave and trustysailor, who was certainly in the other boat with it. He did not tellher, of course, that Rowland had hailed from the berg as she layunconscious, and that if he still had the child, it was with himthere--deserted. CHAPTER VIII Rowland, with some misgivings, drank a small quantity of the liquor, andwrapping the still sleeping child in the coat, stepped out on the ice. The fog was gone and a blue, sailless sea stretched out to the horizon. Behind him was ice--a mountain of it. He climbed the elevation andlooked at another stretch of vacant view from a precipice a hundredfeet high. To his left the ice sloped to a steeper beach than the onebehind him, and to the right, a pile of hummocks and taller peaks, interspersed with numerous cañons and caves, and glistening withwaterfalls, shut out the horizon in this direction. Nowhere was there asail or steamer's smoke to cheer him, and he retraced his steps. Whenbut half-way to the wreckage, he saw a moving white object approachingfrom the direction of the peaks. His eyes were not yet in good condition, and after an uncertain scrutinyhe started at a run; for he saw that the mysterious white object wasnearer the bridge than himself, and rapidly lessening the distance. Ahundred yards away, his heart bounded and the blood in his veins feltcold as the ice under foot, for the white object proved to be a travelerfrom the frozen North, lean and famished--a polar bear, who had scentedfood and was seeking it--coming on at a lumbering run, with great redjaws half open and yellow fangs exposed. Rowland had no weapon but astrong jackknife, but this he pulled from his pocket and opened as heran. Not for an instant did he hesitate at a conflict that promisedalmost certain death; for the presence of this bear involved the safetyof a child whose life had become of more importance to him than his own. To his horror, he saw it creep out of the opening in its white covering, just as the bear turned the corner of the bridge. "Go back, baby, go back, " he shouted, as he bounded down the slope. Thebear reached the child first, and with seemingly no effort, dashed it, with a blow of its massive paw, a dozen feet away, where it lay quiet. Turning to follow, the brute was met by Rowland. The bear rose to his haunches, sank down, and charged; and Rowland feltthe bones of his left arm crushing under the bite of the big, yellow-fanged jaws. But, falling, he buried the knife-blade in theshaggy hide, and the bear, with an angry snarl, spat out the mangledmember and dealt him a sweeping blow which sent him farther along theice than the child had gone. He arose, with broken ribs, and--scarcelyfeeling the pain--awaited the second charge. Again was the crushed anduseless arm gripped in the yellow vise, and again was he pressedbackward; but this time he used the knife with method. The great snoutwas pressing his breast; the hot, fetid breath was in his nostrils; andat his shoulder the hungry eyes were glaring into his own. He struck forthe left eye of the brute and struck true. The five-inch blade went into the handle, piercing the brain, and the animal, with a convulsivespring which carried him half-way to his feet by the wounded arm, rearedup, with paws outstretched, to full eight feet of length, then saggeddown, and with a few spasmodic kicks, lay still. Rowland had done whatno Innuit hunter will attempt--he had fought and killed theTiger-of-the-North with a knife. It had all happened in a minute, but in that minute he was crippled forlife; for in the quiet of a hospital, the best of surgical skill couldhardly avail to reset the fractured particles of bone in the limp arm, and bring to place the crushed ribs. And he was adrift on a floatingisland of ice, with the temperature near the freezing point, and withouteven the rude appliances of the savage. He painfully made his way to the little pile of red and white, andlifted it with his uninjured arm, though the stooping caused himexcruciating torture. The child was bleeding from four deep, cruelscratches, extending diagonally from the right shoulder down the back;but he found upon examination that the soft, yielding bones wereunbroken, and that her unconsciousness came from the rough contact ofthe little forehead with the ice; for a large lump had raised. Of pure necessity, his first efforts must be made in his own behalf; sowrapping the baby in his coat he placed it in his shelter, and cut andmade from the canvas a sling for his dangling arm. Then, with knife, fingers, and teeth, he partly skinned the bear--often compelled to pauseto save himself from fainting with pain--and cut from the warm but notvery thick layer of fat a broad slab, which, after bathing the wounds ata near-by pool, he bound firmly to the little one's back, using the tornnight-gown for a bandage. He cut the flannel lining from his coat, and from that of the sleevesmade nether garments for the little limbs, doubling the surplus lengthover the ankles and tying in place with rope-yarns from a boat-lacing. The body lining he wrapped around her waist, inclosing the arms, andaround the whole he passed turn upon turn of canvas in strips, marlingthe mummy-like bundle with yarns, much as a sailor secures chafing-gearto the doubled parts of a hawser--a process when complete, that wouldhave aroused the indignation of any mother who saw it. But he was only aman, and suffering mental and physical anguish. By the time he had finished, the child had recovered consciousness, andwas protesting its misery in a feeble, wailing cry. But he dared notstop--to become stiffened with cold and pain. There was plenty of freshwater from melting ice, scattered in pools. The bear would furnish food;but they needed fire, to cook this food, keep them warm, and thedangerous inflammation from their hurts, and to raise a smoke to be seenby passing craft. He recklessly drank from the bottle, needing the stimulant, andreasoning, perhaps rightly, that no ordinary drug could affect him inhis present condition; then he examined the wreckage--most of it goodkindling wood. Partly above, partly below the pile, was a steellifeboat, decked over air-tight ends, now doubled to more than a rightangle and resting on its side. With canvas hung over one half, and asmall fire in the other, it promised, by its conducting property, awarmer and better shelter than the bridge. A sailor without matches isan anomaly. He whittled shavings, kindled the fire, hung the canvas andbrought the child, who begged piteously for a drink of water. He found a tin can--possibly left in a leaky boat before its final hoistto the davits--and gave her a drink, to which he had added a few dropsof the whisky. Then he thought of breakfast. Cutting a steak from thehindquarters of the bear, he toasted it on the end of a splinter andfound it sweet and satisfying; but when he attempted to feed the child, he understood the necessity of freeing its arms--which he did, sacrificing his left shirtsleeve to cover them. The change and the foodstopped its crying for a while, and Rowland lay down with it in the warmboat. Before the day had passed the whisky was gone and he was deliriouswith fever, while the child was but little better. CHAPTER IX With lucid intervals, during which he replenished or rebuilt the fire, cooked the bear-meat, and fed and dressed the wounds of the child, thisdelirium lasted three days. His suffering was intense. His arm, the seatof throbbing pain, had swollen to twice the natural size, while hisside prevented him taking a full breath, voluntarily. He had paid noattention to his own hurts, and it was either the vigor of aconstitution that years of dissipation had not impaired, or someanti-febrile property of bear-meat, or the absence of the excitingwhisky that won the battle. He rekindled the fire with his last match onthe evening of the third day and looked around the darkening horizon, sane, but feeble in body and mind. If a sail had appeared in the interim, he had not seen it; nor was thereone in sight now. Too weak to climb the slope, he returned to the boat, where the child, exhausted from fruitless crying, was now sleeping. Hisunskillful and rather heroic manner of wrapping it up to protect it fromcold had, no doubt, contributed largely to the closing of its wounds byforcibly keeping it still, though it must have added to its presentsufferings. He looked for a moment on the wan, tear-stained little face, with its fringe of tangled curls peeping above the wrappings of canvas, and stooping painfully down, kissed it softly; but the kiss awakened itand it cried for its mother. He could not soothe it, nor could he try;and with a formless, wordless curse against destiny welling up from hisheart, he left it and sat down on the wreckage at some distance away. "We'll very likely get well, " he mused, gloomily, "unless I let the firego out. What then? We can't last longer than the berg, and not muchlonger than the bear. We must be out of the tracks--we were about ninehundred miles out when we struck; and the current sticks to the fog-belthere--about west-sou'west--but that's the surface water. These deepfellows have currents of their own. There's no fog; we must be to thesouthward of the belt--between the Lanes. They'll run their boats in theother Lane after this, I think--the money-grabbing wretches. Cursethem--if they've drowned her. Curse them, with their water-tightcompartments, and their logging of the lookouts. Twenty-four boats forthree thousand people--lashed down with tarred gripe-lashings--thirtymen to clear them away, and not an axe on the boat-deck or asheath-knife on a man. Could she have got away? If they got that boatdown, they might have taken her in from the steps; and the mate knew Ihad her child--he would tell her. Her name must be Myra, too; it was hervoice I heard in that dream. That was hasheesh. What did they drug mefor? But the whisky was all right. It's all done with now, unless I getashore--but will I?" The moon rose above the castellated structure to the left, flooding theicy beach with ashen-gray light, sparkling in a thousand points from thecascades, streams, and rippling pools, throwing into blackest shadow thegullies and hollows, and bringing to his mind, in spite of the weirdbeauty of the scene, a crushing sense of loneliness--of littleness--asthough the vast pile of inorganic desolation which held him was of fargreater importance than himself, and all the hopes, plans, and fears ofhis lifetime. The child had cried itself to sleep again, and he paced upand down the ice. "Up there, " he said, moodily, looking into the sky, where a few starsshone faintly in the flood from the moon; "Up there--somewhere--theydon't know just where--but somewhere up above, is the Christians'Heaven. Up there is their good God--who has placed Myra's childhere--their good God whom they borrowed from the savage, bloodthirstyrace that invented him. And down below us--somewhere again--is theirhell and their bad god, whom they invented themselves. And they give usour choice--Heaven or hell. It is not so--not so. The great mystery isnot solved--the human heart is not helped in this way. No good, mercifulGod created this world or its conditions. Whatever may be the nature ofthe causes at work beyond our mental vision, one fact is indubitablyproven--that the qualities of mercy, goodness, justice, play no part inthe governing scheme. And yet, they say the core of all religions onearth is the belief in this. Is it? Or is it the cowardly, human fear ofthe unknown--that impels the savage mother to throw her babe to acrocodile--that impels the civilized man to endow churches--that haskept in existence from the beginning a class of soothsayers, medicine-men, priests, and clergymen, all living on the hopes and fearsexcited by themselves? "And people pray--millions of them--and claim they are answered. Arethey? Was ever supplication sent into that sky by troubled humanityanswered, or even heard? Who knows? They pray for rain and sunshine, andboth come in time. They pray for health and success and both are butnatural in the marching of events. This is not evidence. But they saythat they know, by spiritual uplifting, that they are heard, andcomforted, and answered at the moment. Is not this a physiologicalexperiment? Would they not feel equally tranquil if they repeated themultiplication table, or boxed the compass? "Millions have believed this--that prayers are answered--and thesemillions have prayed to different gods. Were they all wrong or allright? Would a tentative prayer be listened to? Admitting that theBibles, and Korans, and Vedas, are misleading and unreliable, may therenot be an unseen, unknown Being, who knows my heart--who is watching menow? If so, this Being gave me my reason, which doubts Him, and on Himis the responsibility. And would this being, if he exists, overlook adefect for which I am not to blame, and listen to a prayer from me, based on the mere chance that I might be mistaken? Can an unbeliever, inthe full strength of his reasoning powers, come to such trouble that hecan no longer stand alone, but must cry for help to an imagined power?Can such time come to a sane man--to me?" He looked at the dark line ofvacant horizon. It was seven miles away; New York was nine hundred; themoon in the east over two hundred thousand, and the stars above, anynumber of billions. He was alone, with a sleeping child, a dead bear, and the Unknown. He walked softly to the boat and looked at the littleone for a moment; then, raising his head, he whispered: "For you, Myra. " Sinking to his knees the atheist lifted his eyes to the heavens, andwith his feeble voice and the fervor born of helplessness, prayed to theGod that he denied. He begged for the life of the waif in his care--forthe safety of the mother, so needful to the little one--and for courageand strength to do his part and bring them together. But beyond theappeal for help in the service of others, not one word or expressedthought of his prayer included himself as a beneficiary. So much forpride. As he rose to his feet, the flying-jib of a bark appeared aroundthe corner of ice to the right of the beach, and a moment later thewhole moon-lit fabric came into view, wafted along by the faint westerlyair, not half a mile away. He sprang to the fire, forgetting his pain, and throwing on wood, made ablaze. He hailed, in a frenzy of excitement: "Bark ahoy! Bark ahoy! Takeus off, " and a deep-toned answer came across the water. "Wake up, Myra, " he cried, as he lifted the child; "wake up. We're goingaway. " "We goin' to mamma?" she asked, with no symptoms of crying. "Yes, we're going to mamma, now--that is, " he added to himself; "if thatclause in the prayer is considered. " Fifteen minutes later as he watched the approach of a whitequarter-boat, he muttered: "That bark was there--half a mile back inthis wind--before I thought of praying. Is that prayer answered? Is shesafe?" CHAPTER X On the first floor of the London Royal Exchange is a large apartmentstudded with desks, around and between which surges a hurrying, shoutingcrowd of brokers, clerks, and messengers. Fringing this apartment aredoors and hallways leading to adjacent rooms and offices, and scatteredthrough it are bulletin-boards, on which are daily written in duplicatethe marine casualties of the world. At one end is a raised platform, sacred to the presence of an important functionary. In the technicallanguage of the "City, " the apartment is known as the "Room, " and thefunctionary, as the "Caller, " whose business it is to call out in amighty sing-song voice the names of members wanted at the door, and thebare particulars of bulletin news prior to its being chalked out forreading. It is the headquarters of Lloyds--the immense association ofunderwriters, brokers, and shipping-men, which, beginning with thecustomers at Edward Lloyd's coffee-house in the latter part of theseventeenth century, has, retaining his name for a title, developed intoa corporation so well equipped, so splendidly organized and powerful, that kings and ministers of state appeal to it at times for foreignnews. Not a master or mate sails under the English flag but whose record, evento forecastle fights, is tabulated at Lloyds for the inspection ofprospective employers. Not a ship is cast away on any inhabitable coastof the world, during underwriters' business hours, but what that mightysing-song cry announces the event at Lloyds within thirty minutes. One of the adjoining rooms is known as the Chart-room. Here can be foundin perfect order and sequence, each on its roller, the newest charts ofall nations, with a library of nautical literature describing to thelast detail the harbors, lights, rocks, shoals, and sailing directionsof every coast-line shown on the charts; the tracks of latest storms;the changes of ocean currents, and the whereabouts of derelicts andicebergs. A member at Lloyds acquires in time a theoretical knowledge ofthe sea seldom exceeded by the men who navigate it. Another apartment--the Captain's room--is given over to joy andrefreshment, and still another, the antithesis of the last, is theIntelligence office, where anxious ones inquire for and are told thelatest news of this or that overdue ship. On the day when the assembled throng of underwriters and brokers hadbeen thrown into an uproarious panic by the Crier's announcement thatthe great _Titan_ was destroyed, and the papers of Europe and Americawere issuing extras giving the meager details of the arrival at New Yorkof one boat-load of her people, this office had been crowded withweeping women and worrying men, who would ask, and remain to ask again, for more news. And when it came--a later cablegram, --giving the story ofthe wreck and the names of the captain, first officer, boatswain, sevensailors, and one lady passenger as those of the saved, a feeble oldgentleman had raised his voice in a quavering scream, high above thesobbing of women, and said: "My daughter-in-law is safe; but where is my son, --where is my son, andmy grandchild?" Then he had hurried away, but was back again the nextday, and the next. And when, on the tenth day of waiting and watching, he learned of another boat-load of sailors and children arrived atGibraltar, he shook his head, slowly, muttering: "George, George, " andleft the room. That night, after telegraphing the consul at Gibraltar ofhis coming, he crossed the channel. In the first tumultuous riot of inquiry, when underwriters had climbedover desks and each other to hear again of the wreck of the _Titan_, one--the noisiest of all, a corpulent, hook-nosed man with flashingblack eyes--had broken away from the crowd and made his way to theCaptain's room, where, after a draught of brandy, he had seated himselfheavily, with a groan that came from his soul. "Father Abraham, " he muttered; "this will ruin me. " Others came in, some to drink, some to condole--all, to talk. "Hard hit, Meyer?" asked one. "Ten thousand, " he answered, gloomily. "Serve you right, " said another, unkindly; "have more baskets for youreggs. Knew you'd bring up. " Though Mr. Meyer's eyes sparkled at this, he said nothing, but drankhimself stupid and was assisted home by one of his clerks. From this on, neglecting his business--excepting to occasionally visit thebulletins--he spent his time in the Captain's room drinking heavily, andbemoaning his luck. On the tenth day he read with watery eyes, posted onthe bulletin below the news of the arrival at Gibraltar of the secondboat-load of people, the following: "Life-buoy of _Royal Age_, London, picked up among wreckage in Lat. 45-20, N. Lon. 54-31, W. Ship _Arctic_, Boston, Capt. Brandt. " "Oh, mine good God, " he howled, as he rushed toward the Captain's room. "Poor devil--poor damn fool of an Israelite, " said one observer toanother. "He covered the whole of the _Royal Age_, and the biggest chunkof the _Titan_. It'll take his wife's diamonds to settle. " Three weeks later, Mr. Meyer was aroused from a brooding lethargy, by acrowd of shouting underwriters, who rushed into the Captain's room, seized him by the shoulders, and hurried him out and up to a bulletin. "Read it, Meyer--read it. What d'you think of it?" With some difficultyhe read aloud, while they watched his face: "John Rowland, sailor of the _Titan_, with child passenger, name unknown, on board _Peerless_, Bath, at Christiansand, Norway. Both dangerously ill. Rowland speaks of ship cut in half night before loss of _Titan_. " "What do you make of it, Meyer--_Royal Age_, isn't it?" asked one. "Yes, " vociferated another, "I've figured back. Only ship not reportedlately. Overdue two months. Was spoken same day fifty miles east of thaticeberg. " "Sure thing, " said others. "Nothing said about it in the captain'sstatement--looks queer. " "Vell, vwhat of it, " said Mr. Meyer, painfully and stupidly: "dere is acollision clause in der _Titan's_ policy; I merely bay the money to dersteamship company instead of to der _Royal Age_ beeple. " "But why did the captain conceal it?" they shouted at him. "What's hisobject--assured against collision suits?" "Der looks of it, berhaps--looks pad. " "Nonsense, Meyer, what's the matter with you? Which one of the losttribes did you spring from--you're like none of your race--drinkingyourself stupid like a good Christian. I've got a thousand on the_Titan_, and if I'm to pay it I want to know why. You've got theheaviest risk and the brain to fight for it--you've got to do it. Gohome, straighten up, and attend to this. We'll watch Rowland till youtake hold. We're all caught. " They put him into a cab, took him to a Turkish bath, and then home. The next morning he was at his desk, clear-eyed and clear-headed, andfor a few weeks was a busy, scheming man of business. CHAPTER XI On a certain morning, about two months after the announcement of theloss of the _Titan_, Mr. Meyer sat at his desk in the Rooms, busilywriting, when the old gentleman who had bewailed the death of his son inthe Intelligence office tottered in and took a chair beside him. "Good morning, Mr. Selfridge, " he said, scarcely looking up; "I supposeyou have come to see der insurance paid over. Der sixty days are up. " "Yes, yes, Mr. Meyer, " said the old gentleman, wearily; "of course, asmerely a stockholder, I can take no active part; but I am a member here, and naturally a little anxious. All I had in the world--even to my sonand grandchild--was in the _Titan_. " "It is very sad, Mr. Selfridge; you have my deepest sympathy. I pelieveyou are der largest holder of _Titan_ stock--about one hundred thousand, is it not?" "About that. " "I am der heaviest insurer; so Mr. Selfridge, this battle will belargely petween you and myself. " "Battle--is there to be any difficulty?" asked Mr. Selfridge, anxiously. "Berhaps--I do not know. Der underwriters and outside companies haveblaced matters in my hands and will not bay until I take der initiative. We must hear from one John Rowland, who, with a little child, wasrescued from der berg and taken to Christiansand. He has been too sickto leave der ship which found him and is coming up der Thames in herthis morning. I have a carriage at der dock and expect him at my officepy noon. Dere is where we will dransact this little pizness--not here. " "A child--saved, " queried the old gentleman; "dear me, it may be littleMyra. She was not at Gibraltar with the others. I would not care--Iwould not care much about the money, if she was safe. But my son--myonly son--is gone; and, Mr. Meyer, I am a ruined man if this insuranceis not paid. " "And I am a ruined man if it is, " said Mr. Meyer, rising. "Will you comearound to der office, Mr. Selfridge? I expect der attorney and CaptainBryce are dere now. " Mr. Selfridge arose and accompanied him to thestreet. A rather meagerly-furnished private office in Threadneedle Street, partitioned off from a larger one bearing Mr. Meyer's name in thewindow, received the two men, one of whom, in the interests of goodbusiness, was soon to be impoverished. They had not waited a minutebefore Captain Bryce and Mr. Austen were announced and ushered in. Sleek, well-fed, and gentlemanly in manner, perfect types of theBritish naval officer, they bowed politely to Mr. Selfridge when Mr. Meyer introduced them as the captain and first officer of the _Titan_, and seated themselves. A few moments later brought a shrewd-lookingperson whom Mr. Meyer addressed as the attorney for the steamshipcompany, but did not introduce; for such are the amenities of theEnglish system of caste. "Now then, gentlemen, " said Mr. Meyer, "I pelieve we can broceed topizness up to a certain point--berhaps further. Mr. Thompson, you havethe affidavit of Captain Bryce?" "I have, " said the attorney, producing a document which Mr. Meyerglanced at and handed back. "And in this statement, captain, " he said, "you have sworn that dervoyage was uneventful up to der moment of der wreck--that is, " he added, with an oily smile, as he noticed the paling of the captain'sface--"that nothing occurred to make der _Titan_ less seaworthy ormanageable?" "That is what I swore to, " said the captain, with a little sigh. "You are part owner, are you not, Captain Bryce?" "I own five shares of the company's stock. " "I have examined der charter and der company lists, " said Mr. Meyer;"each boat of der company is, so far as assessments and dividends areconcerned, a separate company. I find you are listed as owning twosixty-seconds of der _Titan_ stock. This makes you, under der law, partowner of der _Titan_, and responsible as such. " "What do you mean, sir, by that word responsible?" said Captain Bryce, quickly. For answer, Mr. Meyer elevated his black eyebrows, assumed an attitudeof listening, looked at his watch and went to the door, which, as heopened, admitted the sound of carriage wheels. "In here, " he called to his clerks, then faced the captain. "What do I mean, Captain Bryce?" he thundered. "I mean that you haveconcealed in your sworn statement all reference to der fact that youcollided with and sunk the ship _Royal Age_ on der night before thewreck of your own ship. " "Who says so--how do you know it?" blustered the captain. "You have onlythat bulletin statement of the man Rowland--an irresponsible drunkard. " "The man was lifted aboard drunk at New York, " broke in the firstofficer, "and remained in a condition of delirium tremens up to theshipwreck. We did not meet the _Royal Age_ and are in no way responsiblefor her loss. " "Yes, " added Captain Bryce, "and a man in that condition is liable tosee anything. We listened to his ravings on the night of the wreck. Hewas on lookout--on the bridge. Mr. Austen, the boats'n, and myself wereclose to him. " Before Mr. Meyer's oily smile had indicated to the flustered captainthat he had said too much, the door opened and admitted Rowland, pale, and weak, with empty left sleeve, leaning on the arm of a bronze-beardedand manly-looking giant who carried little Myra on the other shoulder, and who said, in the breezy tone of the quarter-deck: "Well, I've brought him, half dead; but why couldn't you give me time todock my ship? A mate can't do everything. " "And this is Captain Barry, of der _Peerless_, " said Mr. Meyer, takinghis hand. "It is all right, my friend; you will not lose. And this isMr. Rowland--and this is der little child. Sit down, my friend. Icongratulate you on your escape. " "Thank you, " said Rowland, weakly, as he seated himself; "they cut myarm off at Christiansand, and I still live. That is my escape. " Captain Bryce and Mr. Austen, pale and motionless, stared hard at thisman, in whose emaciated face, refined by suffering to the almostspiritual softness of age, they hardly recognized the features of thetroublesome sailor of the _Titan_. His clothing, though clean, wasragged and patched. Mr. Selfridge had arisen and was also staring, not at Rowland, but atthe child, who, seated in the lap of the big Captain Barry, was lookingaround with wondering eyes. Her costume was unique. A dress ofbagging-stuff, put together--as were her canvas shoes and hat--withsail-twine in sail-makers' stitches, three to the inch, covered skirtsand underclothing made from old flannel shirts. It represented many anhour's work of the watch-below, lovingly bestowed by the crew of the_Peerless_; for the crippled Rowland could not sew. Mr. Selfridgeapproached, scanned the pretty features closely, and asked: "What is her name?" "Her first name is Myra, " answered Rowland. "She remembers that; but Ihave not learned her last name, though I knew her mother yearsago--before her marriage. " "Myra, Myra, " repeated the old gentleman; "do you know me? Don't youknow me?" He trembled visibly as he stooped and kissed her. The littleforehead puckered and wrinkled as the child struggled with memory; thenit cleared and the whole face sweetened to a smile. "Gwampa, " she said. "Oh, God, I thank thee, " murmured Mr. Selfridge, taking her in his arms. "I have lost my son, but I have found his child--my granddaughter. " "But, sir, " asked Rowland, eagerly; "you--this child's grandfather?Your son is lost, you say? Was he on board the _Titan_? And themother--was she saved, or is she, too--" he stopped unable to continue. "The mother is safe--in New York; but the father, my son, has not yetbeen heard from, " said the old man, mournfully. Rowland's head sank and he hid his face for a moment in his arm, on thetable at which he sat. It had been a face as old, and worn, and weary asthat of the white-haired man confronting him. On it, when itraised--flushed, bright-eyed and smiling--was the glory of youth. "I trust, sir, " he said, "that you will telegraph her. I am penniless atpresent, and, besides, do not know her name. " "Selfridge--which, of course, is my own name. Mrs. Colonel, or Mrs. George Selfridge. Our New York address is well known. But I shall cableher at once; and, believe me, sir, although I can understand that ourdebt to you cannot be named in terms of money, you need not be pennilesslong. You are evidently a capable man, and I have wealth and influence. " Rowland merely bowed, slightly, but Mr. Meyer muttered to himself:"Vealth and influence. Berhaps not. Now, gentlemen, " he added, in alouder tone, "to pizness. Mr. Rowland, will you tell us about derrunning down of der _Royal Age_?" "Was it the _Royal Age_?" asked Rowland. "I sailed in her one voyage. Yes, certainly. " Mr. Selfridge, more interested in Myra than in the coming account, carried her over to a chair in the corner and sat down, where he fondledand talked to her after the manner of grandfathers the world over, andRowland, first looking steadily into the faces of the two men he hadcome to expose, and whose presence he had thus far ignored, told, whilethey held their teeth tight together and often buried their finger-nailsin their palms, the terrible story of the cutting in half of the ship onthe first night out from New York, finishing with the attempted briberyand his refusal. "Vell, gentlemen, vwhat do you think of that?" asked Mr. Meyer, lookingaround. "A lie, from beginning to end, " stormed Captain Bryce. Rowland rose to his feet, but was pressed back by the big man who hadaccompanied him--who then faced Captain Bryce and said, quietly: "I saw a polar bear that this man killed in open fight. I saw his armafterward, and while nursing him away from death I heard no whines orcomplaints. He can fight his own battles when well, and when sick I'lldo it for him. If you insult him again in my presence I'll knock yourteeth down your throat. " CHAPTER XII There was a moment's silence while the two captains eyed one another, broken by the attorney, who said: "Whether this story is true or false, it certainly has no bearing on thevalidity of the policy. If this happened, it was after the policyattached and before the wreck of the _Titan_. " "But der concealment--der concealment, " shouted Mr. Meyer, excitedly. "Has no bearing, either. If he concealed anything it was done after thewreck, and after your liability was confirmed. It was not even barratry. You must pay this insurance. " "I will not bay it. I will not. I will fight you in der courts. " Mr. Meyer stamped up and down the floor in his excitement, then stopped witha triumphant smile, and shook his finger into the face of the attorney. "And even if der concealment will not vitiate der policy, der fact thathe had a drunken man on lookout when der _Titan_ struck der iceberg willbe enough. Go ahead and sue. I will not pay. He was part owner. " "You have no witnesses to that admission, " said the attorney. Mr. Meyerlooked around the group and the smile left his face. "Captain Bryce was mistaken, " said Mr. Austen. "This man was drunk atNew York, like others of the crew. But he was sober and competent whenon lookout. I discussed theories of navigation with him during his trickon the bridge that night and he spoke intelligently. " "But you yourself said, not ten minutes ago, that this man was in astate of delirium tremens up to der collision, " said Mr. Meyer. "What I said and what I will admit under oath are two different things, "said the officer, desperately. "I may have said anything under theexcitement of the moment--when we were accused of such an infamouscrime. I say now, that John Rowland, whatever may have been hiscondition on the preceding night, was a sober and competent lookout atthe time of the wreck of the _Titan_. " "Thank you, " said Rowland, dryly, to the first officer; then, lookinginto the appealing face of Mr. Meyer, he said: "I do not think it will be necessary to brand me before the world as aninebriate in order to punish the company and these men. Barratry, as Iunderstand it, is the unlawful act of a captain or crew at sea, causingdamage or loss; and it only applies when the parties are purelyemployees. Did I understand rightly--that Captain Bryce was part ownerof the _Titan_?" "Yes, " said Mr. Meyer, "he owns stock; and we insure against barratry;but this man, as part owner, could not fall back on it. " "And an unlawful act, " went on Rowland, "perpetrated by a captain who ispart owner, which might cause shipwreck, and, during the perpetration ofwhich shipwreck really occurs, will be sufficient to void the policy. " "Certainly, " said Mr. Meyer, eagerly. "You were drunk on derlookout--you were raving drunk, as he said himself. You will swear tothis, will you not, my friend? It is bad faith with der underwriters. Itannuls der insurance. You admit this, Mr. Thompson, do you not?" "That is law, " said the attorney, coldly. "Was Mr. Austen a part owner, also?" asked Rowland, ignoring Mr. Meyer'sview of the case. "One share, is it not, Mr. Austen?" asked Mr. Meyer, while he rubbed hishands and smiled. Mr. Austen made no sign of denial and Rowlandcontinued: "Then, for drugging a sailor into a stupor, and having him on lookoutout of his turn while in that condition, and at the moment when the_Titan_ struck the iceberg, Captain Bryce and Mr. Austen have, as partowners, committed an act which nullifies the insurance on that ship. " "You infernal, lying scoundrel!" roared Captain Bryce. He strode towardRowland with threatening face. Half-way, he was stopped by the impact ofa huge brown fist which sent him reeling and staggering across the roomtoward Mr. Selfridge and the child, over whom he floundered to thefloor--a disheveled heap, --while the big Captain Barry examinedteeth-marks on his knuckles, and every one else sprang to their feet. "I told you to look out, " said Captain Barry. "Treat my friendrespectfully. " He glared steadily at the first officer, as thoughinviting him to duplicate the offense; but that gentleman backed awayfrom him and assisted the dazed Captain Bryce to a chair, where he feltof his loosened teeth, spat blood upon Mr. Meyer's floor, and graduallyawakened to a realization of the fact that he had been knocked down--andby an American. Little Myra, unhurt but badly frightened, began to cry and call forRowland in her own way, to the wonder, and somewhat to the scandal ofthe gentle old man who was endeavoring to soothe her. "Dammy, " she cried, as she struggled to go to him; "I wantDammy--Dammy--Da-a-may. " "Oh, what a pad little girl, " said the jocular Mr. Meyer, looking downon her. "Where did you learn such language?" "It is my nickname, " said Rowland, smiling in spite of himself. "She hascoined the word, " he explained to the agitated Mr. Selfridge, who hadnot yet comprehended what had happened; "and I have not yet been able topersuade her to drop it--and I could not be harsh with her. Let me takeher, sir. " He seated himself, with the child, who nestled up to himcontentedly and soon was tranquil. "Now, my friend, " said Mr. Meyer, "you must tell us about thisdrugging. " Then while Captain Bryce, under the memory of the blow he hadreceived, nursed himself into an insane fury; and Mr. Austen, with hishand resting lightly on the captain's shoulder ready to restrain him, listened to the story; and the attorney drew up a chair and took notesof the story; and Mr. Selfridge drew his chair close to Myra and paid noattention to the story at all, Rowland recited the events prior to andsucceeding the shipwreck. Beginning with the finding of the whisky inhis pocket, he told of his being called to the starboard bridge lookoutin place of the rightful incumbent; of the sudden and strange interestMr. Austen displayed as to his knowledge of navigation; of the pain inhis stomach, the frightful shapes he had seen on the deck beneath andthe sensations of his dream--leaving out only the part which bore on thewoman he loved; he told of the sleep-walking child which awakened him, of the crash of ice and instant wreck, and the fixed condition of hiseyes which prevented their focusing only at a certain distance, finishing his story--to explain his empty sleeve--with a graphic accountof the fight with the bear. "And I have studied it all out, " he said, in conclusion. "I wasdrugged--I believe, with hasheesh, which makes a man see strangethings--and brought up on the bridge lookout where I could be watchedand my ravings listened to and recorded, for the sole purpose ofdiscrediting my threatened testimony in regard to the collision of thenight before. But I was only half-drugged, as I spilled part of my teaat supper. In that tea, I am positive, was the hasheesh. " "You know all about it, don't you, " snarled Captain Bryce, from hischair, "'twas not hasheesh; 'twas an infusion of Indian hemp; you don'tknow--" Mr. Austen's hand closed over his mouth and he subsided. "Self-convicted, " said Rowland, with a quiet laugh. "Hasheesh is madefrom Indian hemp. " "You hear this, gentlemen, " exclaimed Mr. Meyer, springing to his feetand facing everybody in turn. He pounced on Captain Barry. "You hearthis confession, captain; you hear him say Indian hemp? I have awitness now, Mr. Thompson. Go right on with your suit. You hear him, Captain Barry. You are disinterested. You are a witness. You hear?" "Yes, I heard it--the murdering scoundrel, " said the captain. Mr. Meyer danced up and down in his joy, while the attorney, pocketinghis notes, remarked to the discomfited Captain Bryce: "You are thepoorest fool I know, " and left the office. Then Mr. Meyer calmed himself, and facing the two steamship officers, said, slowly and impressively, while he poked his forefinger almost intotheir faces: "England is a fine country, my friends--a fine country to leave pehindsometimes. Dere is Canada, and der United States, and Australia, andSouth Africa--all fine countries, too--fine countries to go to with newnames. My friends, you will be bulletined and listed at Lloyds in lessthan half an hour, and you will never again sail under der English flagas officers. And, my friends, let me say, that in half an hour after youare bulletined, all Scotland Yard will be looking for you. But my dooris not locked. " Silently they arose, pale, shamefaced, and crushed, and went out thedoor, through the outer office, and into the street. CHAPTER XIII Mr. Selfridge had begun to take an interest in the proceedings. As thetwo men passed out he arose and asked: "Have you reached a settlement, Mr. Meyer? Will the insurance be paid?" "No, " roared the underwriter, in the ear of the puzzled old gentleman;while he slapped him vigorously on the back; "it will not be paid. Youor I must have been ruined, Mr. Selfridge, and it has settled on you. Ido not pay der _Titan's_ insurance--nor will der other insurers. On dercontrary, as der collision clause in der policy is void with der rest, your company must reimburse me for der insurance which I must pay to der_Royal Age_ owners--that is, unless our good friend here, Mr. Rowland, who was on der lookout at der time, will swear that her lights wereout. " "Not at all, " said Rowland. "Her lights were burning--look to the oldgentleman, " he exclaimed. "Look out for him. Catch him!" Mr. Selfridge was stumbling toward a chair. He grasped it, loosened hishold, and before anyone could reach him, fell to the floor, where helay, with ashen lips and rolling eyes, gasping convulsively. "Heart failure, " said Rowland, as he knelt by his side. "Send for adoctor. " "Send for a doctor, " repeated Mr. Meyer through the door to his clerks;"and send for a carriage, quick. I don't want him to die in der office. " Captain Barry lifted the helpless figure to a couch, and they watched, while the convulsions grew easier, the breath shorter, and the lips fromashen gray to blue. Before a doctor or carriage had come, he had passedaway. "Sudden emotion of some kind, " said the doctor when he did arrive. "Violent emotion, too. Hear bad news?" "Bad and good, " answered the underwriter. "Good, in learning that thisdear little girl was his granddaughter--bad, in learning that he was aruined man. He was der heaviest stockholder in der _Titan_. One hundredthousand pounds, he owned, of der stock, all of which this poor, dearlittle child will not get. " Mr. Meyer looked sorrowful, as he pattedMyra on the head. Captain Barry beckoned to Rowland, who, slightly flushed, was standingby the still figure on the couch and watching the face of Mr. Meyer, onwhich annoyance, jubilation, and simulated shock could be seen in turn. "Wait, " he said, as he turned to watch the doctor leave the room. "Isthis so, Mr. Meyer, " he added to the underwriter, "that Mr. Selfridgeowned _Titan_ stock, and would have been ruined, had he lived, by theloss of the insurance money?" "Yes, he would have been a poor man. He had invested his lastfarthing--one hundred thousand pounds. And if he had left any more itwould be assessed to make good his share of what der company must bayfor der _Royal Age_, which I also insured. " "Was there a collision clause in the _Titan's_ policy?" "Dere was. " "And you took the risk, knowing that she was to run the Northern Lane atfull speed through fog and snow?" "I did--so did others. " "Then, Mr. Meyer, it remains for me to tell you that the insurance onthe _Titan_ will be paid, as well as any liabilities included in andspecified by the collision clause in the policy. In short, I, the oneman who can prevent it, refuse to testify. " "Vwhat-a-t?" Mr. Meyer grasped the back of a chair and, leaning over it, stared atRowland. "You will not testify? Vwhat you mean?" "What I said; and I do not feel called upon to give you my reasons, Mr. Meyer. " "My good friend, " said the underwriter, advancing with outstretchedhands to Rowland, who backed away, and taking Myra by the hand, movedtoward the door. Mr. Meyer sprang ahead, locked it and removed the key, and faced them. "Oh, mine goot Gott, " he shouted, relapsing in his excitement into themore pronounced dialect of his race; "vwhat I do to you, hey? Vwhy yougo pack on me, hey? Haf I not bay der doctor's bill? Haf I not bay forder carriage? Haf I not treat you like one shentleman? Haf I not, hey? Isit you down in mine office and call you Mr. Rowland. Haf I not been oneshentleman?" "Open that door, " said Rowland, quietly. "Yes, open it, " repeated Captain Barry, his puzzled face clearing at theprospect of action on his part. "Open it or I'll kick it down. " "But you, mine friend--heard der admission of der captain--of derdrugging. One goot witness will do: two is petter. But you will swear, mine friend, you will not ruin me. " "I stand by Rowland, " said the captain, grimly. "I don't remember whatwas said, anyhow; got a blamed bad memory. Get away from that door. " Grievous lamentation--weepings and wailings, and the most genuinegnashing of teeth--interspersed with the feebler cries of the frightenedMyra and punctuated by terse commands in regard to the door, filled thatprivate office, to the wonder of the clerks without, and ended, at last, with the crashing of the door from its hinges. Captain Barry, Rowland, and Myra, followed by a parting, heart-bornemalediction from the agitated underwriter, left the office and reachedthe street. The carriage that had brought them was still waiting. "Settle inside, " called the captain to the driver. "We'll take another, Rowland. " Around the first corner they found a cab, which they entered, CaptainBarry giving the driver the direction--"Bark _Peerless_, East IndiaDock. " "I think I understand the game, Rowland, " he said, as they started; "youdon't want to break this child. " "That's it, " answered Rowland, weakly, as he leaned back on the cushion, faint from the excitement of the last few moments. "And as for the rightor wrong of the position I am in--why, we must go farther back for itthan the question of lookouts. The cause of the wreck was full speed ina fog. All hands on lookout could not have seen that berg. Theunderwriters knew the speed and took the risk. Let them pay. " "Right--and I'm with you on it. But you must get out of the country. Idon't know the law on the matter, but they may compel you to testify. You can't ship 'fore the mast again--that's settled. But you can have aberth mate with me as long as I sail a ship--if you'll take it; andyou're to make my cabin your home as long as you like; remember that. Still, I know you want to get across with the kid, and if you stayaround until I sail it may be months before you get to New York, withthe chance of losing her by getting foul of English law. But just leaveit to me. There are powerful interests at stake in regard to thismatter. " What Captain Barry had in mind, Rowland was too weak to inquire. Ontheir arrival at the bark he was assisted by his friend to a couch inthe cabin, where he spent the rest of the day, unable to leave it. Meanwhile, Captain Barry had gone ashore again. Returning toward evening, he said to the man on the couch: "I've gotyour pay, Rowland, and signed a receipt for it to that attorney. He paidit out of his own pocket. You could have worked that company for fiftythousand, or more; but I knew you wouldn't touch their money, and so, only struck him for your wages. You're entitled to a month's pay. Hereit is--American money--about seventeen. " He gave Rowland a roll ofbills. "Now here's something else, Rowland, " he continued, producing anenvelope. "In consideration of the fact that you lost all your clothesand later, your arm, through the carelessness of the company's officers, Mr. Thompson offers you this. " Rowland opened the envelope. In it weretwo first cabin tickets from Liverpool to New York. Flushing hotly, hesaid, bitterly: "It seems that I'm not to escape it, after all. " "Take 'em, old man, take 'em; in fact, I took 'em for you, and you andthe kid are booked. And I made Thompson agree to settle your doctor'sbill and expenses with that Sheeny. 'Tisn't bribery. I'd heel you myselffor the run over, but, hang it, you'll take nothing from me. You've gotto get the young un over. You're the only one to do it. The oldgentleman was an American, alone here--hadn't even a lawyer, that Icould find. The boat sails in the morning and the night train leaves intwo hours. Think of that mother, Rowland. Why, man, I'd travel round theworld to stand in your shoes when you hand Myra over. I've got a childof my own. " The captain's eyes were winking hard and fast, and Rowland'swere shining. "Yes, I'll take the passage, " he said, with a smile. "I accept thebribe. " "That's right. You'll be strong and healthy when you land, and when thatmother's through thanking you, and you have to think of yourself, remember--I want a mate and will be here a month before sailing. Writeto me, care o' Lloyds, if you want the berth, and I'll send you advancemoney to get back with. " "Thank you, captain, " said Rowland, as he took the other's hand and thenglanced at his empty sleeve; "but my going to sea is ended. Even a mateneeds two hands. " "Well, suit yourself, Rowland; I'll take you mate without any hands atall while you had your brains. It's done me good to meet a man like you;and--say, old man, you won't take it wrong from me, will you? It's noneo' my business, but you're too all-fired good a man to drink. Youhaven't had a nip for two months. Are you going to begin?" "Never again, " said Rowland, rising. "I've a future now, as well as apast. " CHAPTER XIV It was near noon of the next day that Rowland, seated in a steamer-chairwith Myra and looking out on a sail-spangled stretch of blue from thesaloon-deck of a west-bound liner, remembered that he had made noprovisions to have Mrs. Selfridge notified by cable of the safety of herchild; and unless Mr. Meyer or his associates gave the story to thepress it would not be known. "Well, " he mused, "joy will not kill, and I shall witness it in itsfullness if I take her by surprise. But the chances are that it will getinto the papers before I reach her. It is too good for Mr. Meyer tokeep. " But the story was not given out immediately. Mr. Meyer called aconference of the underwriters concerned with him in the insurance ofthe _Titan_ at which it was decided to remain silent concerning the cardthey hoped to play, and to spend a little time and money in hunting forother witnesses among the _Titan's_ crew, and in interviewing CaptainBarry, to the end of improving his memory. A few stormy meetings withthis huge obstructionist convinced them of the futility of furthereffort in his direction, and, after finding at the end of a week thatevery surviving member of the _Titan's_ port watch, as well as a few ofthe other, had been induced to sign for Cape voyages, or had otherwisedisappeared, they decided to give the story told by Rowland to the pressin the hope that publicity would avail to bring to light corroboratoryevidence. And this story, improved upon in the repeating by Mr. Meyer toreporters, and embellished still further by the reporters as they wroteit up, particularly in the part pertaining to the polar bear, --blazonedout in the great dailies of England and the Continent, and was cabled toNew York, with the name of the steamer in which John Rowland had sailed(for his movements had been traced in the search for evidence), where itarrived, too late for publication, the morning of the day on which, withMyra on his shoulder, he stepped down the gang-plank at a North Riverdock. As a consequence, he was surrounded on the dock by enthusiasticreporters, who spoke of the story and asked for details. He refused totalk, escaped them, and gaining the side streets, soon found himself incrowded Broadway, where he entered the office of the steamship companyin whose employ he had been wrecked, and secured from the _Titan's_passenger-list the address of Mrs. Selfridge--the only woman saved. Thenhe took a car up Broadway and alighted abreast of a large departmentstore. "We're going to see mamma, soon, Myra, " he whispered in the pink ear;"and you must go dressed up. It don't matter about me; but you're aFifth Avenue baby--a little aristocrat. These old clothes won't do, now. " But she had forgotten the word "mamma, " and was more interestedin the exciting noise and life of the street than in the clothing shewore. In the store, Rowland asked for, and was directed to thechildren's department, where a young woman waited on him. "This child has been shipwrecked, " he said. "I have sixteen dollars anda half to spend on it. Give it a bath, dress its hair, and use up themoney on a dress, shoes, and stockings, underclothing, and a hat. " Theyoung woman stooped and kissed the little girl from sheer sympathy, butprotested that not much could be done. "Do your best, " said Rowland; "it is all I have. I will wait here. " An hour later, penniless again, he emerged from the store with Myra, bravely dressed in her new finery, and was stopped at the corner by apoliceman who had seen him come out, and who marveled, doubtless, atsuch juxtaposition of rags and ribbons. "Whose kid ye got?" he demanded. "I believe it is the daughter of Mrs. Colonel Selfridge, " answeredRowland, haughtily--too haughtily, by far. "Ye believe--but ye don't know. Come back into the shtore, me tourist, and we'll see who ye shtole it from. " "Very well, officer; I can prove possession. " They started back, theofficer with his hand on Rowland's collar, and were met at the door by aparty of three or four people coming out. One of this party, a youngwoman in black, uttered a piercing shriek and sprang toward them. "Myra!" she screamed. "Give me my baby--give her to me. " She snatched the child from Rowland's shoulder, hugged it, kissed it, cried, and screamed over it; then, oblivious to the crowd thatcollected, incontinently fainted in the arms of an indignant oldgentleman. "You scoundrel!" he exclaimed, as he flourished his cane over Rowland'shead with his free arm. "We've caught you. Officer, take that man to thestation-house. I will follow and make a charge in the name of mydaughter. " "Then he shtole the kid, did he?" asked the policeman. "Most certainly, " answered the old gentleman, as, with the assistance ofthe others, he supported the unconscious young mother to a carriage. They all entered, little Myra screaming for Rowland from the arms of afemale member of the party, and were driven off. "C'm an wi' me, " uttered the officer, rapping his prisoner on the headwith his club and jerking him off his feet. Then, while an approving crowd applauded, the man who had fought andconquered a hungry polar bear was dragged through the streets like asick animal by a New York policeman. For such is the stultifying effectof a civilized environment. CHAPTER XV In New York City there are homes permeated by a moral atmosphere sopure, so elevated, so sensitive to the vibrations of human woe andmisdoing, that their occupants are removed completely from allconsideration of any but the spiritual welfare of poor humanity. Inthese homes the news-gathering, sensation-mongering daily paper does notenter. In the same city are dignified magistrates--members of clubs andsocieties--who spend late hours, and often fail to arise in the morningin time to read the papers before the opening of court. Also in New York are city editors, bilious of stomach, testy of speech, and inconsiderate of reporters' feelings and professional pride. Sucheditors, when a reporter has failed, through no fault of his own, insuccessfully interviewing a celebrity, will sometimes send himnews-gathering in the police courts, where printable news is scarce. On the morning following the arrest of John Rowland, three reporters, sent by three such editors, attended a hall of justice presided over byone of the late-rising magistrates mentioned above. In the anteroom ofthis court, ragged, disfigured by his clubbing, and disheveled by hisnight in a cell, stood Rowland, with other unfortunates more or lessguilty of offense against society. When his name was called, he washustled through a door, along a line of policemen--each of whom added tohis own usefulness by giving him a shove--and into the dock, where thestern-faced and tired-looking magistrate glared at him. Seated in acorner of the court-room were the old gentleman of the day before, theyoung mother with little Myra in her lap, and a number of otherladies--all excited in demeanor; and all but the young mother directingvenomous glances at Rowland. Mrs. Selfridge, pale and hollow-eyed, buthappy-faced, withal, allowed no wandering glance to rest on him. The officer who had arrested Rowland was sworn, and testified that hehad stopped the prisoner on Broadway while making off with the child, whose rich clothing had attracted his attention. Disdainful sniffs wereheard in the corner with muttered remarks: "Rich indeed--the idea--theflimsiest prints. " Mr. Gaunt, the prosecuting witness, was called totestify. "This man, your Honor, " he began, excitedly, "was once a gentleman and afrequent guest at my house. He asked for the hand of my daughter, and ashis request was not granted, threatened revenge. Yes, sir. And out onthe broad Atlantic, where he had followed my daughter in the guise of asailor, he attempted to murder that child--my grandchild; but wasdiscovered--" "Wait, " interrupted the magistrate. "Confine your testimony to thepresent offense. " "Yes, your Honor. Failing in this, he stole, or enticed the little onefrom its bed, and in less than five minutes the ship was wrecked, and hemust have escaped with the child in--" "Were you a witness of this?" "I was not there, your Honor; but we have it on the word of the firstofficer, a gentleman--" "Step down, sir. That will do. Officer, was this offense committed inNew York?" "Yes, your Honor; I caught him meself. " "Who did he steal the child from?" "That leddy over yonder. " "Madam, will you take the stand?" With her child in her arms, Mrs. Selfridge was sworn and in a low, quavering voice repeated what her father had said. Being a woman, shewas allowed by the woman-wise magistrate to tell her story in her ownway. When she spoke of the attempted murder at the taffrail, her mannerbecame excited. Then she told of the captain's promise to put the man inirons on her agreeing to testify against him--of the consequent decreasein her watchfulness, and her missing the child just before theshipwreck--of her rescue by the gallant first officer, and his assertionthat he had seen her child in the arms of this man--the only man onearth who would harm it--of the later news that a boat containingsailors and children had been picked up by a Mediterranean steamer--ofthe detectives sent over, and their report that a sailor answering thisman's description had refused to surrender a child to the consul atGibraltar and had disappeared with it--of her joy at the news that Myrawas alive, and despair of ever seeing her again until she had met her inthis man's arms on Broadway the day before. At this point, outragedmaternity overcame her. With cheeks flushed, and eyes blazing scorn andanger, she pointed at Rowland and all but screamed: "And he hasmutilated--tortured my baby. There are deep wounds in her little back, and the doctor said, only last night, that they were made by a sharpinstrument. And he must have tried to warp and twist the mind of mychild, or put her through frightful experiences; for he has taught herto swear--horribly--and last night at bedtime, when I told her the storyof Elisha and the bears and the children, she burst out into the mostuncontrollable screaming and sobbing. " Here her testimony ended in a breakdown of hysterics, between sobs ofwhich were frequent admonitions to the child not to say that bad word;for Myra had caught sight of Rowland and was calling his nickname. "What shipwreck was this--where was it?" asked the puzzled magistrate ofnobody in particular. "The _Titan_, " called out half a dozen newspaper men across the room. "The _Titan_, " repeated the magistrate. "Then this offense was committedon the high seas under the English flag. I cannot imagine why it isbrought into this court. Prisoner, have you anything to say?" "Nothing, your Honor. " The answer came in a kind of dry sob. The magistrate scanned the ashen-faced man in rags, and said to theclerk of the court: "Change this charge to vagrancy--eh--" The clerk, instigated by the newspaper men, was at his elbow. He laid amorning paper before him, pointed to certain big letters and retired. Then the business of the court suspended while the court read the news. After a moment or two the magistrate looked up. "Prisoner, " he said, sharply, "take your left sleeve out of yourbreast!" Rowland obeyed mechanically, and it dangled at his side. Themagistrate noticed, and read on. Then he folded the paper and said: "You are the man who was rescued from an iceberg, are you not?" Theprisoner bowed his head. "Discharged!" The word came forth in an unjudicial roar. "Madam, " addedthe magistrate, with a kindling light in his eye, "this man has merelysaved your child's life. If you will read of his defending it from apolar bear when you go home, I doubt that you will tell it any more bearstories. Sharp instrument--umph!" Which was equally unjudicial on thepart of the court. Mrs. Selfridge, with a mystified and rather aggrieved expression offace, left the court-room with her indignant father and friends, whileMyra shouted profanely for Rowland, who had fallen into the hands of thereporters. They would have entertained him after the manner of thecraft, but he would not be entertained--neither would he talk. Heescaped and was swallowed up in the world without; and when the eveningpapers appeared that day, the events of the trial were all that could beadded to the story of the morning. CHAPTER XVI On the morning of the next day, a one-armed dock lounger found an oldfish-hook and some pieces of string which he knotted together; then hedug some bait and caught a fish. Being hungry and without fire, hetraded with a coaster's cook for a meal, and before night caught twomore, one of which he traded, the other, sold. He slept under thedocks--paying no rent--fished, traded, and sold for a month, then paidfor a second-hand suit of clothes and the services of a barber. Hischanged appearance induced a boss stevedore to hire him tallying cargo, which was more lucrative than fishing, and furnished, in time, a hat, pair of shoes, and an overcoat. He then rented a room and slept in abed. Before long he found employment addressing envelopes for a mailingfirm, at which his fine and rapid penmanship secured him steady work;and in a few months he asked his employers to indorse his applicationfor a Civil Service examination. The favor was granted, the examinationeasily passed, and he addressed envelopes while he waited. Meanwhile hebought new and better clothing and seemed to have no difficulty inimpressing those whom he met with the fact that he was a gentleman. Twoyears from the time of his examination he was appointed to a lucrativeposition under the Government, and as he seated himself at the desk inhis office, could have been heard to remark: "Now John Rowland, yourfuture is your own. You have merely suffered in the past from a mistakenestimate of the importance of women and whisky. " But he was wrong, for in six months he received a letter which, in part, read as follows: "Do not think me indifferent or ungrateful. I have watched from a distance while you made your wonderful fight for your old standards. You have won, and I am glad and I congratulate you. But Myra will not let me rest. She asks for you continually and cries at times. I can bear it no longer. Will you not come and see Myra?" And the man went to see--Myra. THE PIRATES PROLOGUE Two young men met in front of the post-office of a small country town. They were of about the same age--eighteen--each was well dressed, comely, and apparently of good family; and each had an expression offace that would commend him to strangers, save that one of them, thelarger of the two, had what is called a "bad eye"--that is, an eyeshowing just a little too much white above the iris. In the other's eyewhite predominated below the iris. The former is usually the index ofviolent though restrained temper; the latter of an intuitive, psychicdisposition, with very little self-control. The difference in characterso indicated may lead one person to the Presidency, another to thegallows. And--though no such results are promised--with similardivergence of path, of pain and pleasure, of punishment and reward, isthis story concerned. The two boys were schoolmates and friends, with never a quarrel sincethey had known each other; they had graduated together from the highschool, but neither had been valedictorian. They later had sought thecompetitive examination given by the congressman of the district for anappointment to the Naval Academy, and had won out over all, but so closetogether that the congressman had decreed another test. They had taken it, and since then had waited for the letter that namedthe winner; hence the daily visits to the post-office, ending in thisone, when the larger boy, about to go up the steps, met the smallercoming down with an opened letter, and smiling. "I've got it, Jack, " said the smaller boy, joyously. "Here it is. I win, but, of course, you're the alternate. Read it. " He handed the letter to Jack, but it was declined. "What's the use?" was the somewhat sulky response. "I've lost, sureenough. All I've got to do is to forget it. " "Then let me read it to you, " said the winner, eagerly. "I want you tofeel glad about it--same as I would if you had passed first. Listen: "'MR. WILLIAM DENMAN. "'DEAR SIR: I am glad to inform you that you have successfully passed the second examination for an appointment to the Naval Academy, winning by three points in history over the other contestant, Mr. John Forsythe, who, of course, is the alternate in case you do not pass the entrance examination at Annapolis. "'Be ready at any time for instructions from the Secretary of the Navy to report at Annapolis. Sincerely yours, JACOB BLAND. '" "What do I care for that?" said Forsythe. "I suppose I've got a letterin there, too. Let's see. " While Denman waited, Forsythe entered the post-office, and soon emerged, reading a letter. "Same thing, " he said. "I failed by three points in my special study. How is it, Bill?" he demanded, fiercely, as his disappointment grew uponhim. "I've beaten not only you, but the whole class from the primary up, in history, ancient, modern, and local, until now. There's somethingcrooked here. " His voice sank to a mutter. "Crooked, Jack! What are you talking about?" replied Denman, hotly. "Oh, I don't know, Bill. Never mind. Come on, if you're going home. " They walked side by side in the direction of their homes--near togetherand on the outskirts of the town--each busy with his thoughts. Denman, though proud and joyous over the prize he had won, was yet hurt by thespeech and manner of Forsythe, and hurt still further by the darkeningcloud on his face as they walked on. Forsythe's thoughts were best indicated by his suddenly turning towardDenman and blurting out: "Yes, I say; there's something crooked in this. I can beat you inhistory any day in the week, but your dad and old Bland are closefriends. I see it now. " Denman turned white as he answered: "Do you want me to report your opinion to my father and Mr. Bland?" "Oh, you would, would you? And take from me the alternate, too! Well, you're a cur, Bill Denman. Go ahead and report. " They were now on a block bounded by vacant lots, and no one was withinsight. Denman stopped, threw off his coat, and said: "No, I'll not report your opinion, but--you square yourself, JackForsythe, and I'll show you the kind of cur I am. " Forsythe turned, saw the anger in Denman's eyes, and promptly shed hiscoat. It was a short fight, of one round only. Each fought courageously, andwith such fistic skill as schoolboys acquire, and each was equal to theother in strength; but one possessed about an inch longer reach than theother, which decided the battle. Denman, with nose bleeding and both eyes closing, went down at last, andcould not arise, nor even see the necessity of rising. But soon hisbrain cleared, and he staggered to his feet, his head throbbingviciously and his face and clothing smeared with blood from his nose, to see between puffed eyelids the erect figure of Forsythe swaggeringaround a distant corner. He stanched the blood with his handkerchief, but as there was not a brook, a ditch, or a puddle in the neighborhood, he could only go home as he was, trusting that he would meet no one. "Licked!" he muttered. "For the first time in my life, too! What'll theold gentleman and mother say?" What the father and mother might say, or what they did say, has no partin this story; but what another person said may have a place and value, and will be given here. This person was the only one he met beforereaching home--a very small person, about thirteen years old, with biggray eyes and long dark ringlets, who ran across the street to look athim. "Why, Billie Denman!" she cried, shocked and anxious. "What has happenedto you? Run over?" "No, Florrie, " he answered, painfully. "I've been licked. I had afight. " "But don't you know it's wrong to fight, Billie?" "Maybe, " answered Denman, trying to get more blood from his face to thealready saturated handkerchief. "But we all do wrong--sometimes. " The child planted herself directly before him, and looked chidingly intohis discolored and disfigured face. "Billie Denman, " she said, shaking a small finger at him, "of course I'msorry, but, if you have been fighting when you know it is wrong, why--why, it served you right. " Had he not been aching in every joint, his nose, his lips, and his eyes, this unjust speech might have amused him. As it was he answered testily: "Florence Fleming, you're only a kid yet, though the best one I know;and if I should tell you the name I was called and which brought on thefight, you would not understand. But you'll grow up some day, and thenyou will understand. Now, remember this fight, and when some woman, orpossibly some man, calls you a--a cat, you'll feel like fighting, too. " "But I wouldn't mind, " she answered, firm in her position. "Papa calledme a kitten to-day, and I didn't get mad. " "Well, Florrie, " he said, wearily, "I won't try to explain. I'm goingaway before long, and perhaps I won't come back again. But if I do, there'll be another fight. " "Going away, Billie!" she cried in alarm. "Where to?" "To Annapolis. I may stay, or I may come back. I don't know. " "And you are going away, and you don't know that you'll come back! Oh, Billie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you got licked, too. Who did it? I hatehim. Who licked you, Billie?" "Never mind, Florrie. He'll tell the news, and you'll soon know who heis. " He walked on, but the child headed him and faced him. There were tearsin the gray eyes. "And you're going away, Billie!" she exclaimed again. "When are yougoing?" "I don't know, " he answered. "Whenever I am sent for. If I don't see youagain, good-by, Florrie girl. " He stooped to kiss her, but straightenedup, remembering the condition of his face. "But I will see you again, " she declared. "I will, I will. I'll come toyour house. And, Billie--I'm sorry I scolded you, really I am. " He smiled ruefully. "Never mind that, Florrie; you always scolded me, you know, and I'm used to it. " "But only when you did wrong, Billie, " she answered, gravely, "andsomehow I feel that this time you have not done wrong. But I won't scoldthe next time you _really_ do wrong. I promise. " "Oh, yes, you will, little girl. It's the privilege and prerogative ofyour sex. " He patted her on the head and went on, leaving her staring, open-eyedand tearful. She was the child of a neighbor; he had mended her dolls, soothed her griefs, and protected her since infancy, but she was only asa small sister to him. While waiting for orders to Annapolis, he saw her many times, but shedid not change to him. She changed, however; she had learned the name ofhis assailant, and through her expressed hatred for him, and through hersympathy for Billie as the disfigurements left his face, she passed theborder between childhood and womanhood. When orders came, he stopped at her home, kissed her good-by, and wentto Annapolis, leaving her sad-eyed and with quivering lips. And he did not come back. CHAPTER I She was the largest, fastest, and latest thing in seagoing destroyers, and though the specifications called for but thirty-six knots' speed, she had made thirty-eight on her trial trip, and later, under carefulnursing by her engineers, she had increased this to forty knots anhour--five knots faster than any craft afloat--and, with a clean bottom, this speed could be depended upon at any time it was needed. She derived this speed from six water-tube boilers, feeding at apressure of three hundred pounds live steam to five turbine enginesworking three screws, one high-pressure turbine on the center shaft, and four low-pressure on the wing shafts. Besides these she possessedtwo "astern" turbines and two cruising turbines--all four on the wingshafts. She made steam with oil fuel, there being no coal on board except forheating and cooking, and could carry a hundred and thirty tons of it, which gave her a cruising radius of about two thousand miles; also, with"peace tanks" filled, she could steam three thousand miles withoutreplenishing. This would carry her across the Atlantic at thirteenknots' speed, but if she was in a hurry, using all turbines, she wouldexhaust her oil in two days. When in a hurry, she was a spectacle to remember. Built on conventionallines, she showed at a mile's distance nothing but a high bow and fourshort funnels over a mighty bow wave that hid the rest of her long, dark-hued hull, and a black, horizontal cloud of smoke that stretchedastern half a mile before the wind could catch and rend it. She carried four twenty-one-inch torpedo tubes and a battery of sixtwelve-pounder, rapid-fire guns; also, she carried two largesearchlights and a wireless equipment of seventy miles reach, theaërials of which stretched from the truck of her short signal mast aftto a short pole at the taffrail. Packed with machinery, she was a "hot box, " even when at rest, and whenin action a veritable bake oven. She had hygienic air space below decksfor about a dozen men, and this number could handle her; but she carriedberths and accommodations for sixty. Her crew was not on board, however. Newly scraped and painted in the drydock, she had been hauled out, stored, and fueled by a navy-yard gang, and now lay at the dock, ready for sea--ready for her draft of men inthe morning, and with no one on board for the night but the executiveofficer, who, with something on his mind, had elected to remain, whilethe captain and other commissioned officers went ashore for the night. Four years at the Naval Academy, a two years' sea cruise, and a year ofactual service had made many changes in Denman. He was now twenty-five, an ensign, but, because of his position as executive, bearing thecomplimentary title of lieutenant. He was a little taller and much straighter and squarer of shoulder thanwhen he had gone to the academy. He had grown a trim mustache, and thesun and winds of many seas had tanned his face to the color of his eyes;which were of a clear brown, and only in repose did they now show theold-time preponderance of white beneath the brown. In action these eyes looked out through two slits formed by nearlyparallel eyelids, and with the tightly closed lips and high archingeyebrows--sure sign of the highest and best form of physical and moralcourage--they gave his face a sort of "take care" look, which most menheeded. Some women would have thought him handsome, some would not; it alldepended upon the impression they made on him, and the consequent lookin his eyes. At Annapolis he had done well; he was the most popular man of his class, had won honors from his studies and fist fights from his fellows, whileat sea he had shown a reckless disregard for his life, in such mattersas bursting flues, men overboard, and other casualties of seafaring, that brought him many type-written letters from Washington, a fewnumbers of advancement, and the respect and admiration of all that knewor had heard of him. His courage, like Mrs. Cæsar's morals, was above suspicion. Yet therewas one man in the world who was firmly convinced that LieutenantDenman had a yellow streak in him, and that man was Denman himself. He had never been home since his departure for Annapolis. He hadpromised a small girl that if he came back there would be another fight, in which, as he mentally vowed, he would redeem himself. In this he hadbeen sincere, but as the months at the academy went on, with theunsettled fight still in the future, his keen resentment died away, leaving in its place a sense of humiliation and chagrin. He still meant to go back, however, and would have done so when vacationcame; but a classmate invited him to his home, and there he went, gladof the reprieve from an embarrassing, and, as it seemed to him now, anundignified conflict with a civilian. But the surrender brought itssting, and his self-respect lessened. At the next vacation he surrendered again, and the sting began eatinginto his soul. He thought of the overdue redemption he had promisedhimself at all times and upon all occasions, but oftenest just beforegoing to sleep, when the mental picture of Jack Forsythe swaggeringaround the corner, while _he_ lay conquered and helpless on the ground, would accompany him through his dreams, and be with him when he wakenedin the morning. It became an obsession, and very soon the sudden thought of his comingfight with Forsythe brought the uplift of the heart and the slightchoking sensation that betokened nothing but fear. He would not admit it at first, but finally was compelled to. Honestwith himself as he was with others, he finally yielded in the mentalstruggle, and accepted the dictum of his mind. He was afraid to fightJack Forsythe, with no reference to, or regard for, his standing as anofficer and a gentleman. But now, it seemed, all this was to leave him. A month before, he hadthought strongly of his child friend Florrie, and, with nothing to doone afternoon, he had written her a letter--a jolly, rollicking letter, filled with masculine colloquialisms and friendly endearments, such ashe had bestowed upon her at home; and it was the dignity of herreply--received that day--with the contents of the letter, which was the"something on his mind" that kept him aboard. His cheeks burned as he realized that she was now about twenty yearsold, a young lady, and that his letter to her had been sadly conceivedand much out of place. But the news in the letter, which began with"Dear Sir, " and ended with "Sincerely yours, " affected him most. Itread: "I presume you know that your enemy, Jack Forsythe, took his disappointment so keenly that he never amounted to much at home, and about two years ago enlisted in the navy. This relieves you, as father tells me, from the necessity of thrashing him--as you declared you would. Officers and enlisted men cannot fight, he said, as the officer has the advantage, and can always order the man to jail. I thank you very much for remembering me after all these years--in fact, I shall never forget your kindness. " His cheeks and ears had burned all day, and when his fellow officers hadgone, and he was alone, he reread the letter. "Sarcasm and contempt between every line, " he muttered. "She expectedme--the whole town expected me--to come back and lick that fellow. Well"--his eyelids became rigidly parallel--"I'll do it. When I findhim, I'll get shore leave for both of us, take him home, and square theaccount. " This resolution did him good; the heat left his cheek, and the suddenjump of the heart did not come with the occasional thought of the task. Gradually the project took form; he would learn what ship Forsythe wasin, get transferred to her, and when in port arrange the shore leave. Hecould not fight him in the navy, but as man to man, in civilian'sclothing in the town park, he would fight him and thrash him before thepopulace. It was late when he had finished the planning. He lighted a last cigar, and sauntered around the deck until the cigar was consumed. Then he wentto his room and turned in, thinking of the caustic words of MissFlorrie, forgiving her the while, and wondering how she looked--grownup. They were pleasant thoughts to go to sleep on, but sleep did not come. It was an intensely hot, muggy night, and the mosquitoes were thick. Hetried another room, then another, and at last, driven out of thewardroom by the pests, he took refuge in the steward's pantry, andspreading his blanket on the floor, went to sleep on it. CHAPTER II He slept soundly, and as he slept the wind blew up from the east, driving the mosquitoes to cover and bringing with it a damp, impenetrable fog that sank down over the navy yard and hid sentry fromsentry, compelling them to count their steps as they paced. They were scattered through the yard, at various important points, oneat the gangway of each ship at the docks, others at corners andentrances to the different walks that traversed the green lawn, andothers under the walls of the huge naval prison. One of these, whose walk extended from corner to corner, heardsomething, and paused often to listen intently, his eyes peering aroundinto the fog. But the sound was not repeated while he listened--only ashis footfalls sounded soggily on the damp path were they punctuated bythis still, small sound, that he could not localize or remember. If asked, he might have likened it to the rustling of paper, or thesound of a cat's claws digging into a carpet. But at last it ceased, and he went back and forth many times withouthearing it; then, when about half-way from corner to corner, a heavybody came down from above, landing on his head and shoulders and bearinghim to earth, while his rifle was knocked from his hand and big fingersclutched his throat. He struggled and endeavored to call out. But the grip on his throat wastoo strong, and finally he quieted, his last flicker of consciousnesscognizing other dropping bodies and the muttered and whispered words ofmen. So much for this sentry. "I know the way, " whispered the garroter, and a few gathered around him. "We'll make a bee line for the dock and avoid 'em. Then, if we can'tfind a boat, we'll swim for it. It's the only way. " "Right, " whispered another; "fall in here, behind Jenkins--all of you. " The whispered word was passed along, and in single file the dark-brownbodies, each marked on knee and elbow with a white number, followed theleader, Jenkins. He led them across the green, around corners wheresentries were not, and down to the dock where lay the destroyer. Here was a sentry, pacing up and down; but so still was their approachthat he did not see them until they were right upon him. "Who goes--" he started, but the challenge was caught in his throat. He, too, was choked until consciousness almost left him; then the stricturewas relaxed while they questioned him. "Got a boat around here?" hissed Jenkins in his ear. "Whisper--don'tspeak. " "No, " gasped the sentry, unable to speak louder had he dared. "How many men are aboard the destroyer?" was asked. "None now. Crew joins in the morning. " "Nobody on board, you say? Lie quiet. If you raise a row, I'll drop youoverboard. Come here, you fellows. " They closed about him, thirteen in all, and listened to his project. Hewas a pilot of the bay. How many machinists were there in the party?Four claimed the rating. "Right enough, " said Jenkins. "We'll run her out. She's oil fuel, as Iunderstand. You can fire up in ten minutes, can't you? Good. Come on. Wait, though. " Jenkins, with his grip of steel, was equal to the task of tearing astrip from his brown prison jacket, and with this he securely gagged thepoor sentry. Another strip from another jacket bound his hands behindhim, and still another secured him to a mooring cleat, face upward. Thisdone, they silently filed aboard, and spread about through the interior. The sentry had spoken truly, they agreed, when they mustered together. There was no one on board, and the machinists reported plenty of oilfuel. Soon the fires were lighted, and the indicator began to move, as theboilers made steam. They did not wait for full pressure. Jenkins hadspread out a chart in the pilot-house, and when the engines could turnover he gave the word. Lines were taken in except a spring to back on;then this was cast off, and the long, slim hull moved almost silentlyaway from the dock. Jenkins steered by the light of a match held over the compass untilthere was steam enough to turn the dynamos, then the electrics wereturned on in the pilot-house, engine room, and side-light boxes--bywhich time the dock was out of sight in the fog, and they dared speak inarticulate words. Their language was profane but joyous, and theircongratulations hearty and sincere. A table knife is an innocent and innocuous weapon, but two table knivesare not, for one can be used against the other so skillfully as to forma fairly good hack saw, with which prison bars may be sawed. The sawingof steel bars was the sound that the sentry had heard mingling with hisfootfalls. Jenkins, at the wheel, called to the crowd. "Take the wheel, one ofyou, " he ordered. "I've just rounded the corner. Keep her sou'east, halfsouth for a mile. I'll be here, then. I want to rig the log over thestern. " The man answered, and Jenkins departed with the boat's patent log. Downin the engine and boiler rooms were the four machinists--engineers, theywould be called in merchant steamers--and under their efforts theengines turned faster, while a growing bow wave spread from each side ofthe sharp stem. The fog was still thick, so thick that the fan-shaped beams from theside lights could not pierce it as far as the bow, and the forwardfunnel was barely visible--a magnified black stump. Jenkins was back among them soon, remarking that she was making twentyknots already. Then he slowed down, ordered the lead hove, each side, and ringing full speed, quietly took the wheel, changing the courseagain to east, quarter north, and ordering a man aloft to keep a lookoutin the thinner fog for lights ahead. In a few minutes the man reported--a fixed white light four points offthe starboard bow, and a little later a fixed white-and-red flashlighttwo points off the port bow. "Good, " grunted Jenkins. "I know just where I am. Come down from aloft, "he called, "and watch out for buoys. I'm going out the South andHypocrite Channels. " Then a dull boom rang out from astern, followed by another and another, and Jenkins laughed. "They've found that sentry, " he said, "and have telephoned FortIndependence; but it's no good. They've only got salute guns. We passedthat fort twenty minutes ago. " "Any others?" they asked. "Fort Warren, down on the Narrows. That's why I'm going out through theHypocrite. Keep your eyes peeled for buoys, you ginks, and keep thoseleads going. " Calm and imperturbable, a huge, square-faced giant of a man, Jenkinsnaturally assumed the leadership of this band of jail-breakers. Thelight from the binnacle illuminated a countenance of rugged yetsymmetrical features, stamped with prison pallor, but also stamped witha stronger imprint of refinement. A man palpably out of place, no doubt. A square peg in a round hole; a man with every natural attribute of amaster of men. Some act of rage or passion, perhaps, some non-adjustmentto an unjust environment, had sent him to the naval prison, to escapeand become a pirate; for that was the legal status of all. Soon the wind shifted and the fog cleared to seaward, but still held itsimpenetrable wall between them and the town. Then they turned on bothsearchlights, and saw buoys ahead, to starboard and port. Jenkins boasted a little. "I've run these channels for years, " he said, "and I know them as I know the old backyard at home. Hello, what's up?" A man had run to the pilot-house door in great excitement. "An officer aboard, " he whispered. "I was down looking for grub, and sawhim. He's been asleep. " "Take the wheel, " said Jenkins, calmly. "Keep her as she goes, and leavethat black buoy to starboard. " Then he stepped out on deck. CHAPTER III Seamen, officers as well as men, accustomed to "watch and watch, " offour hours' alternate duty and sleep, usually waken at eight bells, evenwhen sure of an all night's sleep. It was long after midnight whenDenman had gone to sleep on the pantry floor, and the slight noise ofgetting under way did not arouse him; but when eight bells came aroundagain, he sat up, confused, not conscious that he had been called, butdimly realizing that the boat was at sea, and that he was culpable innot being on deck. The crew had come, no doubt, and he had over-slept. He did notimmediately realize that it was still dark, and that if the crew hadcome the steward would have found him. He dressed hurriedly in his room, and went on deck, spying a fleeing manin brown mounting the steps ahead of him, and looked around. Astern wasa fog bank, and ahead the open sea, toward which the boat was chargingat full speed. As he looked, a man came aft and faced him. Denmanexpected that he would step aside while he passed, but he did not;instead he blocked his way. "Are you an officer of this boat, sir?" asked the man, respectfully. "I am. What do you want?" "Only to tell you, sir, that she is not now under the control of theNavy Department. My name is Jenkins, and with twelve others I escapedfrom the prison to-night, and took charge of this boat for a while. Wedid not know you were on board. " Denman started back and felt for his pocket pistol, but it was in hisroom. However, Jenkins had noticed the movement, and immediately sprangupon him, bearing him against the nearest ventilator, and pinioning hisarms to his side. "None o' that, sir, " said the giant, sternly. "Are there any others onboard besides yourself?" "Not that I know of, " answered Denman, with forced calmness. "The crewhad not joined when I went to sleep. What do you intend to do with me?" He had seen man after man approach from forward, and now a listeninggroup surrounded him. "That's for you to decide, sir. If you will renounce your officialposition, we will put you on parole; if you will not, you will beconfined below decks until we are ready to leave this craft. All we wantis our liberty. " "How do you intend to get it? Every warship in the world will chase thisboat. " "There is not a craft in the world that can catch her, " rejoinedJenkins; "but that is beside the point. Will you go on parole, sir, orin irons?" "How many are there in this party?" "Thirteen--all told; and that, too, is beside the point. Answer quickly, sir. I am needed at the wheel. " "I accept your offer, " said Denman, "because I want fresh air, andnothing will be gained in honor and integrity in my resisting you. However, I shall not assist you in any way. Even if I see you going todestruction, I shall not warn you. " "That is enough, sir, " answered Jenkins. "You give your word of honor, do you, as an American naval officer, not to interfere with the workingof this boat or the movements of her crew until after we have left her?" "I give you my word, " said the young officer, not without somemisgivings. "You seem to be in command. What shall I call you?" "Herbert Jenkins, seaman gunner. " "Captain Jenkins, " growled a man, and others repeated it. "Captain Jenkins, " responded Denman, "I greet you cordially. My name isWilliam Denman, ensign in the United States Navy, and formally executiveofficer of this boat. " A suppressed exclamation came from the group; a man stepped forward, peered closely into Denman's face, and stepped back. "None o' that, Forsythe, " said Jenkins, sternly. "We're all to treat Mr. Denman with respect. Now, you fellows, step forward, and introduceyourselves. I know only a few of you by name. " Jenkins went to the wheel, picked up the buoys played upon by thesearchlights, and sent the man to join the others, as one after anotherfaced Denman and gave his name. "Guess you know me, Mr. Denman, " said Forsythe, the first to respond. "I know you, Forsythe, " answered Denman, hot and ashamed; for at thesight and sound of him the old heart jump and throat ache had returned. He fought it down, however, and listened to the names as the men gavethem: William Hawkes, seaman; George Davis, seaman; John Kelly, gunner'smate; Percy Daniels, ship's cook, and Thomas Billings, wardroomsteward. John Casey and Frank Munson, they explained, were at the searchlightsforward; and down below were the four machinists, Riley, Sampson, King, and Dwyer. Denman politely bowed his acknowledgments, and asked the ratings of thesearchlight men. "Wireless operators, " they answered. "You seem well-equipped and well-chosen men, " he said, "to run thisboat, and to lead the government a lively dance for a while. But untilthe end comes, I hope we will get on together without friction. " In the absence of the masterful Jenkins, they made embarrassedreplies--all but Forsythe, who remained silent. For no sudden upheavaland reversing of relations will eliminate the enlisted man's respect foran officer. Daylight had come, and Jenkins, having cleared the last of the buoys, called down the men at the searchlights. "You're wireless sharps, aren't you?" he asked. "Go down to theapparatus, and see if you can pick up any messages. The whole coast mustbe aroused. " The two obeyed him, and went in search of the wireless room. Soon onereturned. "The air's full o' talk, " he said. "Casey's at the receiver, still listening, but I made out only a few words like 'Charleston, ''Brooklyn, ' 'jail, ' 'pirates, ' 'Pensacola, ' and one phrasing 'Send inpursuit. '" "The open sea for us, " said Jenkins, grimly, "until we can think out aplan. Send one of those sogers to the wheel. " A "soger"--one who, so far, had done no work--relieved him, and hemustered his men, all but two in the engine room, to a councilamidships. Briefly he stated the situation, as hinted at by Denman andverified by the wireless messages. Every nation in the world would sendits cruisers after them, and no civilized country would receive them. There was but one thing to do under the circumstances--make for the wildcoast of Africa, destroy the boat, and land, each man to work out hisfuture as he could. After a little parley they assented, taking no thought of fuel or food, and trusting to Jenkins' power to navigate. Then, it being broaddaylight, they raided the boat's stores for clothing, and discardedtheir prison suits of brown for the blue of the navy--Jenkins, thelogical commander, donning the uniform of the captain, as large a man ashimself. Next they chose their bunks in the forecastle, and, as they left it forthe deck, Jenkins picked up a bright object from the floor, and absentlyput it in his trousers pocket. CHAPTER IV The boat was now charging due east at full speed, out into the broadAtlantic, and, as the full light of the day spread over the sea, a fewspecks and trails of smoke astern showed themselves; but whether or notthey were pursuing craft that had crept close in the darkness while theywere making steam could not be determined; for they soon sank beneaththe horizon. Assured of immediate safety, Jenkins now stationed his crew. Forsythewas a seaman; he and Hawkes, Davis, and Kelly, the gunner's mate, wouldcomprise the deck force. Riley, Sampson, King, and Dwyer, allmachinists, would attend to the engine and boilers. Casey and Munson, the two wireless operators, would attend to their department, whileDaniels and Billings, the cook and steward, would cook and serve themeals. There would be no officers, Jenkins declared. All were to stand watch, and work faithfully and amicably for the common good; and all disputeswere to be referred to him. To this they agreed, for, though many therewere of higher comparative rating in the navy, Jenkins had a strongvoice, a dominating personality, and a heavy fist. But Jenkins had his limitations, as came out during the confab. He couldnot navigate; he had been an expert pilot of Boston Bay before joiningthe navy, but in the open sea he was as helpless as any. "However, " he said, in extenuation, "we only need to sail aboutsoutheast to reach the African coast, and when we hit it we'll know it. "So the course was changed, and soon they sat down to their breakfast;such a meal as they had not tasted in years--wardroom "grub, " everymouthful. Denman was invited, and, as he was a prisoner on parole, was not toodignified to accept, though he took no part in the hilariousconversation. But neither did Forsythe. Denman went to his room, locked up his private papers, and surrenderedhis revolver to Jenkins, who declined it; he then put it with his papersand returned to the deck, seating himself in a deck chair on thequarter. The watch below had gone down, and those on deck, underJenkins, who stood no watch, busied themselves in the necessary cleaningup of decks and stowing below of the fenders the boat had worn at thedock. Forsythe had gone below, and Denman was somewhat glad in his heart to befree of him until he had settled his mind in regard to his attitudetoward him. Manifestly he, a prisoner on parole, could not seek a conflict withhim. On the contrary, should Forsythe seek it, by word or deed, he couldnot meet him without breaking his parole, which would bring him closeconfinement. Then, too, that prospective fight and vindication before Miss Florrieand his townsmen seemed of very small importance compared with theexigency at hand--the stealing by jail-breakers of the navy's bestdestroyer and one of its officers. His duty was to circumvent those fellows, and return the boat to thegovernment. To accomplish this he must be tactful and diplomatic, deferring action until the time should come when he could safely ask tobe released from parole; and with regard to this he was glad thatForsythe, though as evil-eyed as before, and with an additionaltruculent expression of the face, had thus far shown him no incivility. He was glad, too, because in his heart there were no revengeful thoughtsabout Forsythe--nothing but thoughts of a duty to himself that had beensadly neglected. Thus tranquilized, he lit a cigar and looked around the horizon. A speck to the north caught his eye, and as he watched, it became aspot, then a tangible silhouette--a battle-ship, though of what countryhe could not determine. It was heading on a course that would intercept their own, and in ashort time, at the speed they were making, the destroyer would be withinrange of her heavy guns, one shell from which could break the frailcraft in two. Jenkins and his crowd were busy, the man at the wheel was steering bycompass and looking ahead, and it was the wireless operator onwatch--Casey--who rushed on deck, looked at the battle-ship, and shoutedto Jenkins. "Don't you see that fellow?" he yelled, excitedly. "I heard him before Isaw him. He asked: 'What ship is that?'" Jenkins looked to the north, just in time to see a tongue of red dartfrom a casemate port; then, as the bark of the gun came down the wind, aspurt of water lifted from the sea about a hundred yards ahead. "Port your wheel--hard over, " yelled Jenkins, running forward. Thedestroyer swung to the southward, showing her stern to the battle-ship, and increasing her speed as the engine-room staff nursed the oil feedand the turbines. Black smoke--unconsumed carbon that even the blowerscould not ignite--belched up from the four short funnels, and partly hidher from the battle-ship's view. But, obscure though she was, she could not quite hide herself in hersmoke nor could her speed carry her faster than the twelve-inch shellsthat now came plowing through the air. They fell close, to starboard andto port, and a few came perilously near to the stern; but none hit orexploded, and soon they were out of range and the firing ceased, thebattle-ship heading to the west. Jenkins came aft, and looked sternly at Denman, still smoking his cigar. "Did you see that fellow before we did?" he asked. "I did, " answered Denman, returning his stare. "Why didn't you sing out? If we're sunk, you drown, too, don't you?" "You forget, Captain Jenkins, that I accepted my parole on conditionthat I should neither interfere with you nor assist you. " "But your life--don't you value that?" "Not under some conditions. If I cannot emerge from this adventure withcredit and honor intact, I prefer death. Do you understand?" Jenkins' face worked visibly, as anger left it and wondering doubtappeared. Then his countenance cleared, and he smiled. "You're right, sir. I understand now. But you know what we mean to do, don't you? Make the African coast and scatter. You can stand for that, can't you?" "Not unless I have to. But you will not reach the coast. You will behunted down and caught before then. " Jenkins' face clouded again. "And what part will you play if thatcomes?" he asked. "No part, active or resistant, unless first released from parole. But ifI ask for that release, it will be at a time when I am in greater dangerthan now, I promise you that. " "Very well, sir. Ask for it when you like. " And Jenkins went forward. The course to the southeast was resumed, but in half an hour two otherspecks on the southern horizon resolved into scout cruisers headingtheir way, and they turned to the east, still rushing at full speed. They soon dropped the scouts, however, but were again driven to thenorth by a second battle-ship that shelled their vicinity for an hourbefore they got out of range. It was somewhat discouraging; but, as darkness closed down, they oncemore headed their course, and all night they charged along at fortyknots, with lights extinguished, but with every man's eyes searching thedarkened horizon for other lights. They dodged a few, but daylightbrought to view three cruisers ahead and to port that showedunmistakable hostility in the shape of screaming shells and solid shot. Again they charged to the north, and it was mid-day before the cruiserswere dropped. They were French, as all knew by their build. Though there was no one navigating the boat, Denman, in view of futureneed of it, took upon himself the winding of the chronometers; and thedays went on, Casey and Munson reporting messages sent from shore toship; battle-ships, cruisers, scouts, and destroyers appearing anddisappearing, and their craft racing around the Atlantic like a huntedfox. Jenkins did his best to keep track of the various courses; but, notskilled at "traverse, " grew bewildered at last, and frankly intimatedthat he did not know where they were. CHAPTER V One morning there was a council of war amidships to which Denman was notinvited until it had adjourned as a council to become a committee ofways and means. Then they came aft in a body, and asked him to navigate. "No, " said Denman, firmly, rising to his feet and facing them. "I willnot navigate unless you surrender this craft to me, and work her back toBoston, where you will return to the prison. " "Well, we won't do that, " shouted several, angrily. "Wait, you fellows, " said Jenkins, firmly, "and speak respectfully to anofficer, while he acts like one. Mr. Denman, your position need not bechanged for the worse. You can command this boat and all hands if youwill take us to the African coast. " "My _position_ would be changed, " answered Denman. "If I command thisboat, I take her back to Boston, not to the African coast. " "Very well, sir, " said Jenkins, a shade of disappointment on his face. "We cannot force you to join us, or help us; so--well, come forward, youfellows. " "Say, Jenkins!" broke in Forsythe. "You're doing a lot of dictatinghere, and I've wondered why! Who gave you the right to decide? You admityour incompetency; you can't navigate, can you?" "No, I cannot, " retorted Jenkins, flushing. "Neither can I learn, at myage. Neither can you. " "I can't?" stormed Forsythe, his eyes glaring white as he glanced fromJenkins to Denman and back. "Well, I'll tell you I can. I tell you Ihaven't forgotten all I learned at school, and that I can pick upnavigation without currying favor from this milk-fed thief. You knowwell"--he advanced and held his fist under Denman's face--"that I wonthe appointment you robbed me of, and that the uniform you wear belongsto me. " At the first word Denman's heart gave the old, familiar thump and jumpinto his throat. Then came a quick reaction--a tingling at the hairroots, an opening of the eyes, followed by their closing to narrowslits, and, with the full weight of his body behind, he crashed his fistinto Forsythe's face, sending him reeling and whirling to the deck. He would have followed, to repeat the punishment, but the others stoppedhim. In an intoxication of ecstasy at the unexpected adjustment of hismental poise, he struck out again and again, and floored three or fourof them before Jenkins backed him against the companion. "He's broken his parole--put him in irons--chuck him overboard, " theychorused, and closed around him threateningly, though Forsythe, his handto his face, remained in the background. "That's right, sir, " said Jenkins, holding Denman at the end of onelong arm. "You have violated your agreement with us, and we mustconsider you a prisoner under confinement. " "All right, " panted Denman. "Iron me, if you like, but first form a ringand let me thrash that dog. He thrashed me at school when I was thesmaller and weaker. I've promised him a licking. Let me give it to him. " "No, sir, we will not, " answered Jenkins. "Things are too serious forfighting. You must hand me that pistol and any arms you may have, and beconfined to the wardroom. And you, Forsythe, " he said, looking at thevictim, "if you can master navigation, get busy and make good. And youother ginks get out of here. Talk it over among yourselves, and if youagree with Forsythe that I'm not in command here, get busy, too, andI'll overrule you. " He released Denman, moved around among them, looking each man steadilyin the face, and they straggled forward. "Now, sir, " he said to Denman, "come below. " Denman followed him down the companion and into the wardroom. Knowingthe etiquette as well as Jenkins, he led him to his room, opened hisdesk and all receptacles, and Jenkins secured the revolver. "Is this all you have, sir?" asked Jenkins. "Why do you ask that?" answered Denman, hotly. "As a prisoner, why may Inot lie to you?" "Because, Mr. Denman, I think you wouldn't. However, I won't ask; I'llsearch this room and the whole boat, confiscating every weapon. You willhave the run of your stateroom and the wardroom, but will not be allowedon deck. And you will not be annoyed, except perhaps to lend Forsytheany books he may want. He's the only educated man in the crowd. " "Better send him down under escort, " responded Denman, "if you want himback. " "Yes, yes, that'll be attended to. I've no part in your private affairs, sir; but you gave him one good one, and that ought to be enough for awhile. If you tackle him again, you'll have the whole bunch at you. Better let well enough alone. " Denman sat down in his room, and Jenkins departed. Soon he came backwith three others--the steadiest men of the crew--and they made asystematic search for weapons in the wardroom and all staterooms openingfrom it. Then they locked the doors leading to the captain's quartersand the doors leading forward, and went on deck, leaving Denman aprisoner, free to concoct any antagonistic plans that came to his mind. But he made none, as yet; he was too well-contented and happy, not somuch in being released from a somewhat false position as a prisonerunder parole as in the lifting of the burden of the years, the shame, humiliation, chagrin, and anger dating from the school-day thrashing. Hesmiled as he recalled the picture of Forsythe staggering along the deck. The smile became a grin, then a soft chuckle, ending in joyous laughter;then he applied the masculine leveler of all emotion--he smoked. The staterooms--robbed of all weapons--were left open, and, as each roomcontained a deadlight, or circular window, he had a view of the sea oneach beam, but nothing ahead or astern; nor could he hear voices on deckunless pitched in a high key, for the men, their training strong uponthem, remained forward. There was nothing on either horizon at present. The boat was stormingalong to the southward, as he knew by a glance at the "telltale"overhead, and all seemed well with the runaways until a sudden stoppingof the engines roused him up, to peer out the deadlights, and speculateas to what was ahead. But he saw nothing, from either side, and strained his ears for soundsfrom the deck. There was excitement above. Voices from forward came tohim, muffled, but angry and argumentative. They grew louder as the mencame aft, and soon he could distinguish Jenkins' loud profanity, drowning the protests of the others. "She's afire and her boats are burned. There's a woman aboard. I tellyou we're not going to let 'em drown. Over with that boat, or I'llstretch some o' you out on deck-- Oh, you will, Forsythe?" Then came a thud, as of the swift contact of two hard objects, and asound as of a bag of potatoes falling to the deck, which told Denmanthat some one had been knocked down. "Go ahead with the machine, Sampson, " said Jenkins again, "and forward, there. Port your wheel, and steer for the yacht. " Denman sprang to a starboard deadlight and looked. He could now see, slantwise through the thick glass, a large steam yacht, afire from hermainmast to her bow, and on the still intact quarter-deck a womanfrantically beckoning. Men, nearer the fire, seemed to be fighting it. The picture disappeared from view as the boat, under the impulse of herengines and wheel, straightened to a course for the wreck. Soon theengines stopped again, and Denman heard the sounds of a boat beinglowered. He saw this boat leave the side, manned by Hawkes, Davis, Forsythe, and Kelly, but it soon left his field of vision, and hewaited. Then came a dull, coughing, prolonged report, and the voices on deckbroke out. "Blown up!" yelled Jenkins. "She's sinking forward! She's cut in two!Where are they? Where's the woman? That wasn't powder, Riley. What wasit?" "Steam, " answered the machinist, coolly. "They didn't rake the firesuntil too late, I suppose, and left the engine under one bell possibly, while they steered 'fore the wind with the preventer tiller. " "They've got somebody. Can you see? It's the woman! Blown overboard. Seeany one else? I don't. " Riley did not answer, and soon Jenkins spoke again. "They're coming back. Only the woman--only the woman out o' the wholecrowd. " "They'd better hurry up, " responded Riley. "What's that over to thenor'ard?" "Nothing but a tramp, " said Jenkins, at length. "But we don't want to beinterviewed. Bear a hand, you fellows, " he shouted. "Is the woman dead?" "No--guess not, " came the answer, through the small deadlight. "Faintedaway since we picked her up. Burned or scalded, somewhat. " CHAPTER VI Denman saw the boat for a moment or two as it came alongside, andnoticed the still form of the woman in the stern sheets, her face hiddenby a black silk neckerchief. Then he could only know by the voices thatthey were lifting her aboard and aft to the captain's quarters. But hewas somewhat surprised to see the door that led to these quarters openedby Jenkins, who beckoned him. "We've picked up a poor woman, sir, " he said, "and put her in here. Now, we're too busy on deck to 'tend to her, Mr. Denman, and then--we don'tknow how; but--well, you're an educated man, and a gentleman. Would youmind? I've chased the bunch out, and I won't let 'em bother you. It'sjust an extension of your cruising radius. " "Certainly, " said Denman. "I'll do what I can for her. " "All right, sir. I'll leave this door open, but I must lock the aftercompanion. " He went on deck by the wardroom stairs, while Denman passed through tothe woman. She lay on a transom, dripping water from her clothing to thecarpet, and with the black cloth still over her face; but, on hearinghis footsteps, she removed it, showing a countenance puffed and crimsonfrom the scalding of the live steam that had blown her overboard. Then, groaning pitifully, she sat up, and looked at him through swolleneyelids. "What is it?" she exclaimed, weakly. "What has happened? Where isfather?" "Madam, " said Denman, gently, "you have been picked up from a steamyacht which exploded her boilers. Are you in pain? What can I do foryou?" "I don't know. Yes, I am in pain. My face. " "Wait, and I will get you what I can from the medicine-chest. " Denman explored the surgeon's quarters, and returned with bandages and amixture of linseed oil and lime water. He gently laved and bound thepoor woman's face, and then led her to the captain's berth. "Go in, " he said. "Take off your wet clothes, and put on his pajamas. Here they are"--he produced them from a locker--"and then turn in. Iwill be here, and will take care of you. " He departed, and when he saw the wet garments flung out, he gatheredthem and hung them up to dry. It was all he could do, except to lookthrough the surgeon's quarters for stimulants, which he found. Hepoured out a strong dose of brandy, which he gave to the woman, and hadthe satisfaction of seeing her sink into profound slumber; then, returning to the wardroom, he found Jenkins waiting for him. "I am after a sextant, Mr. Denman, " he said, "an almanac--a nauticalalmanac. Forsythe wants them. " "You must find them yourself, then, " answered Denman. "Neither underparole nor confinement will I aid you in any way unless you surrender. " "Nonsense, " said Jenkins, impatiently, as he stepped past Denman, andapproached a bookcase. "When we're through with the boat you can haveher. " He had incautiously turned his back. Denman saw the protruding butt ofhis pistol in Jenkins' pocket, and, without any formulated plan for thefuture, only seeing a momentary advantage in the possession of theweapon, pounced on his shoulders, and endeavored to secure it. But he was not able to; he could only hold on, his arms around Jenkins'neck, while the big sailor hove his huge body from side to side, and, gripping his legs, endeavored to shake him off. No word was spoken--only their deep breathing attested to theirearnestness, and they thrashed around the wardroom like a dog and a cat, Denman, in the latter similitude, in the air most of the time. But hewas getting the worst of it, and at last essayed a trick he knew of, taught him in Japan, and to be used as a last resort. Gripping his legs tightly around the body of Jenkins, he sagged down andpressed the tips of his forefingers into two vulnerable parts of thethick neck, where certain important nerves approach the surface--partsas vulnerable as the heel of Achilles. Still clinging, he mercilesslycontinued the pressure, while Jenkins swayed back and forth, and finallyfell backward to the floor. Denman immediately secured the pistol; then, panting hard, he examinedhis victim. Jenkins was breathing with the greatest difficulty, butcould not speak or move, and his big eyes glared piteously up at hisconqueror. The latter would have ironed him at once, but the irons wereforward in the armroom, so he temporarily bound him hand and foot withneckties replevined from his fellow officers' staterooms. Then, relieving Jenkins of his keys, he went through the forward door tothe armroom, from which he removed, not only wrist and leg arms, butevery cutlass and service revolver that the boat was stocked with, and aplentiful supply of ammunition. First properly securing the still inert and helpless Jenkins, he draggedhim to a corner, and then stowed the paraphernalia of war in his room, loading as many as a dozen of the heavy revolvers. He was still without a plan, working under intense excitement, and couldonly follow impulses, the next of which was to lock the wardroomcompanion down which Jenkins had come, and to see that the forward doorand the after companion were secured. This done, he sat down abreast ofhis prisoner to watch him, and think it out. There was no change inJenkins; he still breathed hard, and endeavored unsuccessfully to speak, while his eyes--the angry glare gone from them--looked up inquiringly. "Oh, you're all right, Captain Jenkins, " said Denman. "You'll breatheeasier to-morrow, and in a week, perhaps, you may speak in a whisper;but you are practically deprived from command. So make the best of it. " Jenkins seemed willing to, but this did not solve the problem; therewere twelve other recalcitrants on deck who might not be so easilyjujutsued into weakness and dumbness. As the situation cleared, he saw two ways of solving it, one, to remainbelow, and from the shelter of his room to pot them one by one as theycame down; the other, to take the initiative, assert himself on deckbehind the menace of cocked revolvers, and overawe them into submission. The first plan involved hunger, for he could eat nothing not provided bythem; the other, a quick and certain ending of the false position he wasin--a plan very appealing to his temperament. He rose to his feet with a final inspection of Jenkins' bonds, and, going to his room, belted and armed himself with three heavy revolvers, then opened the wardroom companion door, and stepped to the deck. No onewas in sight, except the man at the wheel, not now steering in theclose, armored conning tower, but at the upper wheel on the bridge. He looked aft, and, spying Denman, gave a shout of warning. But no one responded, and Denman, with a clear field, advanced forward, looking to the right and left, until he reached the engine-room hatch, down which he peered. Riley's anxious face looked up at him, and fartherdown was the cringing form of King, his mate of the starboard watch. Denman did not know their names, but he sternly commanded them to comeup. "We can't leave the engines, sir, " said Riley, shrinking under the coldargument of two cold, blue tubes pointed at them. "Shut off your gas, and never mind your engines, " commanded Denman. "Come up on deck quietly, or I'll put holes in you. " King shut off the gas, Riley turned a valve that eased off the makingsteam, and the two appeared before Denman. "Lie down on deck, the two of you, " said Denman, sharply. "Take off yourneckerchiefs, and give them to me. " They obeyed him. He took the two squares of black silk--similar to thatwhich had covered the face of the rescued woman, and with them he boundtheir hands tightly behind their backs. "Lie still, now, " he said, "until I settle matters. " They could rise and move, but could not thwart him immediately. He wentforward, and mounted to the bridge. "How are you heading?" he demanded, with a pistol pointed toward thehelmsman. "South--due south, sir, " answered the man--it was Davis, of thestarboard watch. "Leave the wheel. The engine is stopped. Down on deck with you, and takeoff your neckerchief. " Davis descended meekly, gave him his neckerchief, and was bound as werethe others. Then Denman looked for the rest. So far--good. He had three prisoners on deck and one in the wardroom;the rest were below, on duty or asleep. They were in the forecastle--thecrew's quarters--in the wireless room below the bridge, in the galleyjust forward of the wardroom. Denman had his choice, and decided on theforecastle as the place containing the greatest number. Down thefore-hatch he went, and entered the apartment. A man rolled out of abunk, and faced him. "Up with your hands, " said Denman, softly. "Up, quickly. " The man's hands went up. "All right, sir, " he answered, sleepily andsomewhat weakly. "My name's Hawkes, and I haven't yet disobeyed an orderfrom an officer. " "Don't, " warned Denman, sharply. "Take off your neckerchief. " Off came the black silk square. "Wake up the man nearest you. Tie his hands behind his back, and takeoff his necktie. " It was a machinist named Sampson who was wakened and bound, with thecold, blue tube of Denman's pistol looking at him; and then it wasDwyer, his watch mate, and Munson, the wireless man off duty, endingwith old Kelly, the gunner's mate--each tied with the neckerchief of thelast man wakened, and Hawkes, the first to surrender, with theneckerchief of Kelly. "On deck with you all, " commanded Denman, and he drove them up the stepsto the deck, where they lay down beside Riley, King, and Davis. Nonespoke or protested. Each felt the inhibition of the presence of acommissioned officer, and Denman might have won--might have secured therest and brought them under control--had not a bullet sped from theafter companion, which, besides knocking his cap from his head, inflicted a glancing wound on his scalp and sent him headlong to thedeck. CHAPTER VII After the rescue of the woman, all but those on duty had musteredforward near the bridge, Jenkins with a pair of binoculars to his eyesinspecting a receding steamer on the horizon, the others passingcomments. All had agreed that she was a merchant craft--the first theyhad met at close quarters--but not all were agreed that she carried nowireless equipment. Jenkins, even with the glasses, could not be sure, but he _was_ sure of one thing, he asserted. Even though the steamerhad recognized and reported their position, it made little difference. "Well, " said Forsythe, "if she can report us, why can't we? Why can't wefake a report--send out a message that we've been seen a thousand milesnorth?" "That's a good idea, " said Casey, the wireless man off duty. "We needn'tgive any name--only a jumble of letters that spell nothing. " "How far can you send with what you've got?" asked Jenkins. "With those aërials, " answered Casey, glancing aloft at the longgridiron of wires, "about fifty miles. " "Not much good, I'm afraid, " said Jenkins. "Lord knows where we are, butwe're more than fifty miles from land. " "That as far as you can reason?" broke in Forsythe. "Jenkins, you'rehandy at a knockdown, but if you can't use what brain you've got, you'dbetter resign command here. I don't know who elected you, anyhow. " "Are you looking for more, Forsythe?" asked Jenkins, taking a steptoward him. "If you are, you can have it. If not, get down to yourstudies, and find out where this craft is, so we can get somewhere. " Forsythe, hiding his emotions under a forced grin, retreated toward thefore-hatch. "I can give you the latitude, " he said, before descending, "by ameridian observation this noon. I picked up the method in one lessonthis morning. But I tell you fellows, I'm tired of getting knockeddown. " Jenkins watched him descend, then said to Casey: "Fake up a messageclaiming to be from some ship with a jumbled name, as you say, and beready to send it if he gets our position. " "Then you think well of it?" "Certainly. Forsythe has brains. The only trouble with him is that hewants to run things too much. " Casey, a smooth-faced, keen-eyed Irish-American, descended to consultwith his _confrère_, Munson; and Forsythe appeared, swinging a book. Laying this on the bridge stairs, he passed Jenkins and walked aft. "Where are you going?" asked the latter. Forsythe turned, white with rage, and answered slowly and softly: "Down to the officers' quarters to get a sextant or a quadrant. I foundthat book on navigation in the pilot-house, but I need the instrument, and a nautical almanac. That is as far as my studies have progressed. " "You stay out of the officers' quarters, " said Jenkins. "There's a manthere who'll eat you alive if you show yourself. You want a sextant andnautical almanac. Anything else?" "That is all. " "I'll get them, and, remember, you and the rest are to stay away fromthe after end of the boat. " Forsythe made no answer as Jenkins passed him on the way aft, butmuttered: "Eat me alive? We'll see. " Riley, one of the machinists, appeared from the engine-room hatch andcame forward, halting before Forsythe. "Say, " he grumbled, "what call has that big lobster to bullyrag thiscrowd the way he's been doin'? I heard him just now givin' you hell, andhe gave me hell yesterday when I spoke of the short oil. " "Short oil?" queried Forsythe. "Do you mean that----" "I mean that the oil won't last but a day longer. We've been stormingalong at forty knots, and eating up oil. What'll we do?" "God knows, " answered Forsythe, reflectively. "Without oil, we stop--inmid-ocean. What then?" "What then?" queried Riley. "Well, before then we must hold up somecraft and get the oil--also grub and water, if I guess right. This bunchis hard on the commissary. " "Riley, " said Forsythe, impressively, "will you stand by me?" "Yes; if you can bring that big chump to terms. " "All right. Talk to your partners. Something must be done--and he can'tdo it. Wait a little. " As though to verify Riley and uphold him in his contention, Daniels, thecook, came forward from the galley, and said: "Just about one week'swhack o' grub and water left. We'll have to go on an allowance. " Then hepassed on, but was called back. "One week's grub left?" asked Forsythe. "Sure o' that, Daniels?" "Surest thing you know. Plenty o' beans and hard-tack; but who wantsbeans and hard-tack?" "Have you spoken to Jenkins about it?" "No, but we meant to. Something's got to be done. Where is he now?" "Down aft, " said Forsythe, reflectively. "What's keeping him?" Riley sank into the engine room, and Daniels went forward to theforecastle, reappearing before Forsythe had reached a conclusion. "Come aft with me, Daniels, " he said. "Let's find out what's doing. " Together they crept aft, and peered down the wardroom skylight. They sawDenman and Jenkins locked in furious embrace, and watched while Jenkinssank down, helpless and impotent. They saw Denman bind him, disappearfrom sight, and reappear with the irons, then they listened to hisparting lecture to Jenkins. "Come, " said Forsythe, "down below with us, quick. " They descended the galley companion, from which a passage led aft to thepetty officers' quarters, which included the armroom, and thence to theforward door of the wardroom. Here they halted, and listened to Denman'smovements while he armed himself and climbed the companion stairs. Theycould also see through the keyhole. "He's heeled!" cried Forsythe. "Where did he get the guns?" "Where's the armroom? Hereabouts somewhere. Where is it?" They hurriedly searched, and found the armroom; it contained cumbersomerifles, cutlasses, and war heads, but no pistols. "He's removed them all. Can we break in that door?" asked Forsythe, rushing toward the bulkhead. "No, hold on, " said Daniels. "We'll watch from the companion, and whenhe's forward we'll sneak down the other, and heel ourselves. " "Good. " So, while Denman crept up and walked forward, glancing right and left, the two watched him from the galley hatch, and, after he had bound thetwo engineers and the helmsman, they slipped aft and descended thewardroom stairs. Here they looked at Jenkins, vainly trying to speak, but ignored him for the present. They hurried through the quarters, and finally found Denman's room withits arsenal of loaded revolvers. They belted and armed themselves, andcarefully climbed the steps just in time to see Denman drive theforecastle contingent to the deck. Then Forsythe, taking careful aim, sent the bullet which knocked Denman unconscious to the deck. CHAPTER VIII Forsythe and Daniels ran forward, while Billings, the cook off watch, followed from the galley hatch, and Casey came up from the wirelessroom. Each asked questions, but nobody answered at once. There wereeight bound men lying upon the deck, and these must first be released, which was soon done. Denman, lying prone with a small pool of blood near his head, was nextexamined, and pronounced alive--he was breathing, but dazed and shocked;for a large-caliber bullet glancing upon the skull has somewhat the sameeffect as the blow of a cudgel. He opened his eyes as the men examinedthem, and dimly heard what they said. "Now, " said Forsythe, when these preliminaries were concluded, "here weare, miles at sea, with short store of oil, according to Riley, and ashort store of grub, according to Daniels. What's to be done? Hey? Theman who has bossed us so far hasn't seen this, and is now down in thewardroom--knocked out by this brass-buttoned dudeling. What are yougoing to do, hey?" Forsythe flourished his pistols dramatically, and glared unspeakablethings at the "dudeling" on the deck. "Well, Forsythe, " said old Kelly, the gunner's mate, "you've pretendedto be a navigator. What do you say?" "I say this, " declared Forsythe: "I'm not a navigator, but I can be. ButI want it understood. There has got to be a leader--a commander. If youfellows agree, I'll master the navigation and take this boat to theAfrican coast. But I want no half-way work; I want my orders to go, justas I give them. Do you agree? You've gone wrong under Jenkins. Take yourchoice. " "You're right, Forsythe, " said Casey, the wireless man of the starboardwatch. "Jenkins is too easy--too careless. Take the job, I say. " "Do you all agree?" yelled Forsythe wildly in his excitement. "Yes, yes, " they acclaimed. "Take charge, and get us out o' these seas. Who wants to be locked up?" "All right, " said Forsythe. "Then I'm the commander. Lift that baby downto the skipper's room with the sick woman, and let them nurse eachother. Lift Jenkins out of the wardroom, and stow him in a forecastlebunk. Riley, nurse your engines and save oil, but keep the dynamo goingfor the wireless; and you, Casey, have you got that message cooked up?" "I have. All I want is the latitude and longitude to send it from. " "I'll give it to you soon. Get busy, now, and do your share. I muststudy a little. " The meeting adjourned. Denman, still dazed and with a splittingheadache, was assisted aft and below to the spare berth in the captain'squarters, where he sank into unconsciousness with the moaning of thestricken woman in his ears. Casey went down to his partner and his instruments; Riley and King, withtheir _confrères_ of the other watch, went down to the engines to "nursethem"; and Forsythe, after Jenkins had been lifted out of the wardroomand forward to a forecastle bunk, searched the bookshelves and the desksof the officers, and, finding what he wanted, went forward to study. He was apt; he was a high-school graduate who only needed to applyhimself to produce results. And Forsythe produced them. As he hadpromised, he took a meridian observation that day, and in half an hourannounced the latitude--thirty-five degrees forty minutes north. "Now, Casey, " he called, after he had looked at a track chart. "Got yourfake message ready?" "Only this, " answered Casey, scanning a piece of paper. "Listen: "Stolen destroyer bound north. Latitude so and so, longitude so and so. " "That'll do, or anything like it. Send it from latitude forty north, fifty-five west. That's up close to the corner of the Lanes, and if it'scaught up it'll keep 'em busy up there for a while. " "What's our longitude?" "Don't know, and won't until I learn the method. But just north of us isthe west-to-east track of outbound low-power steamers, which, I take it, means tramps and tankers. Well, we'll have good use for a tanker. " "You mean we're to hold up one for oil?" "Of course, and for grub if we need it. " "Piracy, Forsythe. " "Have pirates got anything on us, now?" asked Forsythe. "What are we?Mutineers, convicts, strong-arm men, thieves--or just simply pirates. Off the deck with you, Casey, and keep your wires hot. Forty north, forty-five west for a while, then we'll have it farther north. " Casey jotted down the figures, and departed to the wireless room, where, at intervals through the day he sent out into the ether the radiatingwaves, which, if picked up within fifty miles by a craft beyond thehorizon, might be relayed on. The success of the scheme could not be learned by any tangible signs, but for the next few days, while the boat lay with quiet engines andForsythe studied navigation, they remarked that they were not pursued ornoticed by passing craft. And as the boat, with dead engines, rolled lazily in the long Atlanticswell, while the men--all but Forsythe, the two cooks, and the twowireless experts--lolled lazily about the deck, the three invalids ofthe ship's company were convalescing in different degrees. Jenkins, dumb and wheezy, lay prone in a forecastle bunk, trying towonder how it happened. His mental faculties, though apprising him thathe was alive, would hardly carry him to the point of wonder; for wonderpredicates imagination, and what little Jenkins was born with had beenshocked out of him. Still he struggled, and puzzled and guessed, weakly, as to what hadhappened to him, and when a committee from the loungers above visitedhim, and asked what struck him, he could only point suggestively to histhroat, and wag his head. He could not even whisper; and so they lefthim, pondering upon the profanely expressed opinion of old Kelly that itwas a "visitation from God. " The committee went aft to the skipper's quarters, and here loud talk andprofanity ceased; for there was a woman below, and, while these fellowswere not gentlemen--as the term is understood--they were men--bad men, but men. On the way down the stairs, Kelly struck, bare-handed, his watch mateHawkes for expressing an interest in the good looks of the woman; andSampson, a giant, like his namesake, smote old Kelly, hip and thigh, forqualifying his strictures on the comment of Hawkes. Thus corrected and enjoined, with caps in hand, they approached the opendoor of the starboard room, where lay the injured woman in a berth, fully clothed in her now dried garments, and her face still hidden inDenman's bandage. "Excuse me, madam, " said Sampson, the present chairman of the committee, "can we do anything for you?" "I cannot see you, " she answered, faintly. "I do not know where I am, nor what will happen to me. But I am in need of attention. One man waskind to me, but he has not returned. Who are you--you men?" "We're the crew of the boat, " answered Sampson, awkwardly. "Theskipper's forward, and I guess the man that was kind to you is ourprisoner. He's not on the job now, but--what can we do?" "Tell me where I am, and where I am going. What boat is this? Who areyou?" "Well, madam, " broke in old Kelly, "we're a crowd o' jail-breakers thatstole a torpedo-boat destroyer, and put to sea. We got you off a burnedand sinking yacht, and you're here with us; but I'm blessed if I knowwhat we'll do with you. Our necks are in the halter, so to speak--orrather, our hands and ankles are in irons for life, if we're caught. You've got to make the best of it until we get caught, and if we don't, you've got to make the best of it, too. Lots o' young men among us, andyou're no spring chicken, by the looks o' you. " Old Kelly went down before a fist blow from Hawkes, who thus strove torehabilitate himself in the good opinion of his mates, and Hawkes wentbackward from a blow from Sampson, who, as yet unsullied from unworthythought, held his position as peacemaker and moralist. And while theywere recovering from the excitement, Denman, with blood on his facefrom the wound in his scalp, appeared among them. "Are you fellows utterly devoid of manhood and self-respect, " he said, sternly, "that you appear before the door of a sickroom and bait a womanwho cannot defend herself even by speech? Shame upon you! You havecrippled me, but I am recovering. If you cannot aid this woman, leaveher to me. She is burned, scalded, disfigured--she hardly knows hername, or where she came from. You have saved her from the wreck, andhave since neglected her. Men, you are jailbirds as you say, but you areAmerican seamen. If you cannot help her, leave her. Do not insult her. Iam helpless; if I had power I would decree further relief from themedicine-chest. But I am a prisoner--restricted. " Sampson squared his big shoulders. "On deck with you fellows--all ofyou. Git--quick!" They filed up the companion, leaving Sampson looking at Denman. "Lieutenant, " he said, "you take care o' this poor woman, and if any oneinterferes, notify me. I'm as big a man as Jenkins, who's knocked out, and a bigger man than Forsythe, who's now in command. But we'refair--understand? We're fair--the most of us. " "Yes, yes, " answered Denman, as he staggered back to a transom seat. "Want anything yourself?" asked Sampson, as he noted the supine figureof Denman. "You're still Lieutenant Denman, of the navy--understand?" "No, I do not. Leave me alone. " Sampson followed his mates. Denman sat a few moments, nursing his aching head and trying to adjusthimself to conditions. And as he sat there, he felt a hand on hisshoulder and heard a weak voice saying: "Are you Lieutenant Denman--Billie Denman?" He looked up. The bandaged face of the woman was above him. Out of thefolds of the bandage looked two serious, gray eyes; and he knew them. "Florrie!" he said, in a choke. "Is this you--grown up? Florrie Fleming!How--why--what brings you here?" "I started on the trip, Billie, " she said, calmly, "with father on afriend's yacht bound for the Bermudas. We caught fire, and I was theonly one saved, it seems; but how are you here, subordinate to thesemen? And you are injured, Billie--you are bleeding! What has happened?" "The finger of Fate, Florrie, or the act of God, " answered Denman, witha painful smile. "We must have the conceit taken out of us on occasions, you know. Forsythe, my schoolmate, is in command of this crowd ofjail-breakers and pirates. " "Forsythe--your conqueror?" She receded a step. "I had-- Do you know, Mr. Denman, that you were my hero when I was a child, and that I neverforgave Jack Forsythe? I had hoped to hear--" "Oh, I know, " he interrupted, hotly, while his head throbbed anew withthe surge of emotion. "I know what you and the whole town expected. But--well, I knocked him down on deck a short time back, and theknockdown stands; but they would not allow a finish. Then he shot mewhen I was not looking. " "I am glad, " she answered, simply, "for your sake, and perhaps for myown, for I, too, it seems, am in his power. " He answered her as he could, incoherently and meaninglessly, but shewent to her room and closed the door. CHAPTER IX Down the wardroom companion came Forsythe, followed by Sampson, whoedged alongside of him as he peered into the after compartment, whereDenman sat on the transom. "What do you want down here with me?" asked Forsythe, in a snarl, as helooked sidewise at Sampson. "To see that you act like a man, " answered the big machinist. "There's asick woman here. " "And a more or less sick man, " answered Forsythe, "that if I hadn't madesick would ha' had you in irons. Get up on deck. All I want is achronometer. " "Under the circumstances, " rejoined Sampson, coolly, "though Iacknowledge your authority as far as governing this crew is concerned, when it comes to a sick woman defended only by a wounded officer, Ishift to the jurisdiction of the officer. If Lieutenant Denman asks thatI go on deck, I will go. Otherwise, I remain. " "Wait, " said Denman, weakly, for he had lost much blood. "PerhapsForsythe need not be antagonized or coerced. Forsythe, do you remember alittle girl at home named Florrie Fleming? Well, that woman is she. Iappeal to whatever is left of your boyhood ideals to protect this woman, and care for her. " "Yes, I remember her, " answered Forsythe, with a bitter smile. "Shethought you were a little tin god on wheels, and told me after you'dgone that you'd come back and thrash me. You didn't, did you?" Hisspeech ended in a sneer. "No, but I will when the time comes, " answered Denman; but the mentaltransition from pity to anger overcame him, and he sank back. "Now, this is neither here nor there, Forsythe, " said Sampson, sternly. "You want a chronometer. When you get it, you've no more business herethan I have, and I think you'd better use your authority like a man, orI'll call a meeting of the boys. " "Of course, " answered Forsythe, looking at the big shoulders of Sampson. "But, inasmuch as I knew this fellow from boyhood, and knew this littlegirl when a child, the best care I can give her is to remove this chapfrom her vicinity. We'll put him down the fore peak, and let one o' thecooks feed her and nurse her. " "We'll see about that on deck, " said Sampson, indignantly. "I'll talk--" "Yes, " broke in Denman, standing up. "Forsythe is right. It is notfitting that I should be here alone with her. Put me anywhere you like, but take care of her, as you are men and Americans. " Forsythe made no answer, but Sampson gave Denman a troubled, doubtfullook, then nodded, and followed Forsythe to the various rooms until hehad secured what he wanted; then they went on deck together. But in an hour they were back; and, though Denman had heard nothing of aconclave on deck, he judged by their faces that there had been one, andthat Forsythe had been overruled by the influence of Sampson. ForSampson smiled and Forsythe scowled, as they led Denman into thewardroom to his own berth, and locked him in with the assurance that thecooks would feed him and attend to the wants of himself and the woman. Billings soon came with arnica, plaster, and bandages, and roughlydressed his wound; but he gave him no information of their plans. However, Denman could still look out through a deadlight. A few hours after the boat's engines had started, he could see asteamer on the horizon, steering a course that would soon intercept thatof the destroyer. She was a one-funneled, two-masted craft, a tramp, possibly, a workingboat surely; but he only learned when her striped funnel came to viewthat she belonged to a regular line. She made no effort to avoid them, but held on until within hailing distance, when he heard Forsythe'svoice from the bridge. "Steamer ahoy!" he shouted. "What's your cargo?" "Oil, " answered a man on the steamer's bridge. "What are you holding meup for?" "Oil, " answered Forsythe. "How is it stowed--in cases, or in bulk?" "In bulk, you doggoned fool. " "Very good. We want some of that oil. " "You do, hey? Who are you? You look like that runaway destroyer I'veheard so much about. Who's going to recompense the company for the oilyou want? Hey? Where do I come in? Who pays the bill?" "Send it to the United States Government, or send it to the devil. Passa hose over the side, and dip your end into the tank. " "Suppose I say no?" "Then we'll send a few shells into your water line. " "Is that straight? Are you pirates that would sink a working craft?" "As far as you are concerned we are. Pass over your hose, and stoptalking about it. All we want is a little oil. " "Will you give me a written receipt?" "Of course. Name your bill. We'll toss it up on a drift bolt. Pass overthe hose. " "All right. Hook on your own reducer and suck it full with your pump;then it will siphon down. " "Got reducers, Sampson?" "Got several. Guess we can start the flow. " The two craft drew close together, a hose was flung from the tanker tothe destroyer, and the four machinists worked for a while with wrenchesand pump fittings until the connection was made; then they started thepump, filled the hose, and, disconnecting, dropped their end into thetanks. The oil, by the force of gravity, flowed from one craft to the otheruntil the gauges showed a full supply. Then a written receipt for onehundred and twenty-five tons of oil was signed by the leaders, tied to apiece of iron, and tossed aboard the tanker, and the two craftseparated, the pirate heading south, as Denman could see by thetelltale. Denman, his wounded scalp easier, lay down in his berth and smoked whilehe thought out his plans. Obviously the men were pirates, fullycommitted; they would probably repeat the performance; and as obviouslythey would surely be caught in time. There was nothing that he could do, except to heal his wound and wait. He could not even assist Miss Florrie, no matter what peril might menaceher; then, as he remembered a bunch of duplicate keys given him when hejoined as executive officer, he thought that perhaps he might. They werein his desk, and, rolling out, he secured them. He tried them in turn on his door lock, and finally found the one thatfitted. This he took off the ring and secured with his own bunch ofkeys, placing the others--which he easily surmised belonged to all thelocking doors in the boat--in another pocket. Then he lay back to finishhis smoke. But Sampson opened his door, and interrupted. "You'll excuse me, sir, " he began, while Denman peered critically at himthrough the smoke. "But I suppose you know what we've just done?" "Yes, " he answered. "I could see a little and hear more. You've held upand robbed an oil steamer. " "And is it piracy, sir, in the old sense--a hanging matter if we'recaught?" "Hardly know, " said Denman, after a moment's reflection. "Laws arerepealed every now and then. Did you kill any one?" "No, sir. " "Well, I judge that a pirate at sea is about on the same plane as aburglar on shore. If he kills any one while committing a felony, he isguilty of murder in the first degree. Better not kill any fellow men, then you'll only get a long term--perhaps for life--when you're nabbed. " "Thank you, Mr. Denman. They're talking big things on deck, but--there'll be no killing. Forsythe is something of a devil and willstop at nothing, but I'll--" "Pardon me, " said Denman, lazily, "he'll stop at me if you release me. " "Not yet, sir. It may be necessary, but at present we're thinking ofourselves. " "All right. But, tell me, how did you get a key to my door? How manykeys are there?" "Oh, from Billings, sir. Not with Forsythe's knowledge, however. Billings, and some others, think no more of him than I do. " "That's right, " responded Denman. "I knew him at school. Look out forhim. By the way, is the lady aft being attended to?" "Yes, sir. Daniels, the other cook, brings her what she needs. She isnot locked up, though. " "That's good. Give her the run of the deck, and take care of her. " "Yes, sir, we will, " answered Sampson, as respectfully as though it werea legitimate order--for force of habit is strong. Then he left the room, locking the door behind him. Denman smoked until he had finished the cigar, and, after he had eaten asupper brought by Billings, he smoked again until darkness closed down. And with the closing down of darkness came a plan. CHAPTER X Tossing his cigar through the opened deadlight, Denman arose andunlocked his door, passing into the small and empty wardroom. First, hetried the forward door leading into the petty officers' quarters and tothe armroom, and, finding it locked, sought for the key which opened it, and passed through, closing the door softly behind him. Farther forward he could hear the voice of Billings, singing cheerfullyto himself in the galley; and, filtering through the galley hatch andopen deadlights, the voice of Forsythe, uttering angry commands to someone on deck. He had no personal design upon Billings, nor at present upon Forsythe, so he searched the armroom. As Forsythe and Daniels had found, there wasnothing there more formidable than cutlasses, rifles, and torpedo heads;the pistols had been removed to some other place. So Denman went backand searched the wardroom, delving into closets and receptacles lookingfor arms; but he found none, and sat down on a chair to think. Presentlyhe arose and tapped on the glazed glass door of the captain'sapartment. "Florrie, " he said, in a half whisper. "Florrie, are you awake?" There was no answer for a moment; then he saw a shadow move across thedoor. "Florrie, " he repeated, "are you awake?" "Who is this?" came an answering whisper through the door. "Denman--Billie Denman, " he answered. "If you are awake and clothed, letme in. I have a key, and I want to talk with you. " "All right--yes. Come in. But--I have no key, and the door is locked. " Denman quickly found the key and opened the door. She stood there, withher face still tied up in cloths, and only her gray eyes showing in thelight from the electric bulbs of the room. "Florrie, " he said, "will you do your part toward helping us out of ourpresent trouble?" "I'll do what I can, Billie; but I cannot do much. " "You can do a lot, " he responded. "Just get up on deck, with your facetied up, and walk around. Speak to any man you meet, and go forward tothe bridge. Ask any one you see, any question you like, as to where weare going, or what is to be done with us--anything at all which willjustify your presence on deck. Just let them see that you are on deck, and will be on deck again. Will you, Florrie?" "My face is still very bad, Billie; and the wind cuts like a knife. Whymust I go up among those men?" "I'll tell you afterward. Go along, Florrie. Just show yourself, andcome down. " "I am in the dark. Why do you not tell me what is ahead? I would ratherstay here and go to bed. " "You can go to bed in ten minutes, " said Denman. "But go up first andshow yourself, and come down. I will do the rest. " "Well, Billie, I will. I do not like to, but you seem to have some planwhich you do not tell me of, so--well, all right. I will go up. " She put on a cloak and ascended the companion stairs, and Denman satdown to wait. He heard nothing, not even a voice of congratulation, andafter a few moments Florrie came down. "I met them all, " she said, "and they were civil and polite. What moredo you want of me, Billie?" "Your cloak, your hat, and your skirt. I will furnish the bandage. " "What?" "Exactly. I will go up, dressed like you, and catch them unawares, oneby one. " "But, Billie, they will kill you, or--hurt you. Don't do it, Billie. " "Now, here, Florrie girl, " he answered firmly. "I'll go into thewardroom, and you toss in the materials for my disguise. Then you go tobed. If I get into trouble they will return the clothes. " "But suppose they kill you! I will be at their mercy. Billie, I am alonehere without you. " "Florrie, they are sailors; that means that they are men. If I win, youare all right, of course. Now let me have the things. I want to getcommand of this boat. " "Take them, Billie; but return to me and tell me. Don't leave me insuspense. " "I won't. I'll report, Florrie. Just wait and be patient. " He passed into the wardroom, and soon the skirt, hat, and cloak werethrown to him. He had some trouble in donning the garments; for, whilethe length of the skirt did not matter, the width certainly did, and hemust needs piece out the waistband with a length of string, ruthlesslypunching holes to receive it. The cloak was a tight squeeze for hisbroader shoulders, but he managed it; and, after he had thoroughlymasked his face with bandages, he tried the hat. There were hatpinssticking to it, which he knew the utility of; but, as she had furnishedhim nothing of her thick crown of hair, he jabbed these through thebandage, and surveyed himself in the skipper's large mirror. "Most ladylike, " he muttered, squinting through the bandages. Then hewent on deck. His plan had progressed no further than this--to be able to reach thedeck unrecognized, so that he could watch, listen to the talk, anddecide what he might do later on. Billings still sang cheeringly in the galley, and the voices forwardwere more articulate; chiefly concerned, it seemed, with thereplenishing of the water and food supply, and the necessity ofForsythe's pursuing his studies so that they could know where they were. The talk ended by their driving their commander below; and, when thewatches were set, Denman himself went down. He descended as he had comeup, by the captain's companion, reported his safety to Florrie throughthe partly opened stateroom door, and also requested that, each night asshe retired, she should toss the hat, cloak, and skirt into thewardroom. To this she agreed, and he discarded the uncomfortable rig andwent to his room, locking the captain's door behind him, also his own. His plan had not progressed. He had only found a way to see things fromthe deck instead of through a deadlight; and he went to sleep with thetroubled thought that, even though he should master them all, as he hadonce nearly succeeded in doing, he would need to release them in orderthat they should "work ship. " To put them on parole was out of thequestion. The sudden stopping of the turbines woke him in the morning, and thesun shining into his deadlight apprised him that he had slept late. Helooked out and ahead, and saw a large, white steam yacht resting quietlyon the rolling ground swell, apparently waiting for the destroyer tocreep up to her. "Another holdup, " he said; "and for grub and water this time, Isuppose. " Wishing to see this from the deck, he rushed aft to the captain's roomand tapped on the door, meanwhile fumbling for his keys. There was noanswer, and, tapping again, he opened the door and entered. "Florrie, " he called, in a whisper, "are you awake?" She did not reply, but he heard Sampson's voice from the deck. "This is your chance, miss, " he said. "We're going to get stores fromthat yacht; but no doubt she'll take you on board. " "Is she bound to New York, or some port where I may reach friends?"asked the girl. "No; bound to the Mediterranean. " "Will you release Mr. Denman as well?" "No. I'm pretty sure the boys will not. He knows our plans, and is anaval officer, you see, with a strong interest in landing us. Once onshore, he would have every warship in the world after us. " "Then I stay here with Mr. Denman. He is wounded, and is my friend. " Denman was on the point of calling up--to insist that she leave theyacht; but he thought, in time, that it would reveal his position, andleave him more helpless, while, perhaps, she might still refuse to go. He heard Sampson's footsteps going forward, and called to her softly;but she, too, had moved forward, and he went back to his deadlight. It was a repetition of the scene with the oil steamer. Forsythe, loudlyand profanely announcing their wants, and calling the yacht's attentionto two twelve-pounders aimed at her water line. She was of the standardtype, clipper-bowed, square-sterned, with one funnel and two masts; andfrom the trucks of these masts stretched the three-wire grid of awireless outfit. Forward was a crowd of blue-clad sailors, on the bridge an officer and ahelmsman, and aft, on the fantail, a number of guests; while amidships, conversing earnestly, were two men, whose dress indicated that they werethe owner and sailing master. In the door of a small deck house near them stood another man inuniform, and to this man the owner turned and spoke a few words. The mandisappeared inside, and Denman, straining his ears, heard the raspingsound of a wireless "sender, " and simultaneously Casey's warning shoutto Forsythe: "He's calling for help, Forsythe. Stop him. " Then came Forsythe's vibrant voice. "Call that man out of the wireless room, " he yelled, "or we'll send ashell into it. Train that gun, Kelly, and stand by for the word. Callhim out, " he continued. "Stop that message. " The rasping sound ceased, and the operator appeared; then, with theireyes distended, the three ran forward. "Any one else in that deck house?" called Forsythe. "No, " answered the sailing master. "What are you going to do?" "Kelly, " said Forsythe, "aim low, and send a shell into the house. Aimlow, so as to smash the instruments. " Kelly's reply was inarticulate, but in a moment the gun barked, and thedeck house disintegrated into a tangle of kindling from which oozed acloud of smoke. Women screamed, and, forward and aft, the yacht'speople crowded toward the ends of the craft. "What in thunder are you trying to do?" roared the sailing master, shaking his fist. "Are you going to sink us?" "Not unless necessary, " replied Forsythe; "but we want grub--good grub, too--and water. We want water through your own hose, because ours isfull of oil. Do you agree?" There was a short confab between the owner and the sailing master, ending with the latter's calling out: "We'll give you water and grub, but don't shoot any more hardware at us. Come closer and throw a heavingline, and send your boat, if you like, for the grub. Our boats are alllashed down. " "That's reasonable, " answered Forsythe. "Hawkes, Davis, Daniels, Billings--you fellows clear away that boat of ours, and stand by to gofor the grub. " The two craft drew together, and for the rest it was like the otherholdup. The hose was passed, and, while the tanks were filling, the boatpassed back and forth, making three trips, heavily laden with barrels, packages, and boxes. Then, when Forsythe gave the word, the hose wasdrawn back, the boat hoisted and secured, and the two craft separatedwithout another word of threat or protest. CHAPTER XI "Fully committed, " muttered Denman, as he drew back from the deadlight. "They'll stop at nothing now. " He was about to open his door to visit Florrie, if she had descended, when it was opened from without by Billings, who had brought hisbreakfast. "We'll have better grub for a while, sir, " he said, as he deposited thetray on the desk. "Suppose you know what happened?" "Yes, and I see life imprisonment for all of you, unless you are killedin the catching. " "Can't help it, sir, " answered Billings, with a deprecatory grin. "We'renot going back to jail, nor will we starve on the high seas. All we'rewaiting for is the course to the African coast--unless--" He paused. "Unless what?" demanded Denman, leaning over his breakfast. "Well--unless the vote is to stay at sea. We've got a good, fast boatunder us. " "What do you mean? Continued piracy?" "I can't tell you any more, sir, " answered Billings, and he went off, after carefully locking the door behind him. When Denman had finished his breakfast, he quietly let himself out. Tapping on the after door, he saw Florrie's shadow on the translucentglass, and opened it. She stood before him with the bandages removed, and he saw her featuresfor the first time since she had come aboard. They were pink, and hereand there was a blister that had not yet disappeared; but, even sohandicapped, her face shone with a beauty that he had never seen in awoman nor imagined in the grown-up child that he remembered. The large, serious, gray eyes were the same; but the short, dark ringlets haddeveloped to a wealth of hair that would have suitably crowned a queen. Denman stood transfixed for a moment, then found his tongue. "Florrie, " he said, softly, so as not to be heard from above, "is thisreally you? I wouldn't have known you. " "Yes, I know, " she answered, with a smile, which immediately changed toa little grimace of pain. "I was badly scalded, but I had to take offthe cloth to eat my breakfast. " "No, " he said. "I didn't mean that. I mean you've improved so. Why, Florrie, you've grown up to be a beauty. I never imaginedyou--you--looking so fine. " "Don't talk like that, Billie Denman. I'm disfigured for life, I know. Ican never show my face again. " "Nonsense, Florrie. The redness will go away. But, tell me, why didn'tyou go aboard that yacht? I overheard you talking to Sampson. Why didn'tyou go, and get away from this bunch?" "I have just told you, " she answered, while a tint overspread her pinkface that did not come of the scalding. "There were women on that yacht. Do you think I want to be stared at, and pitied, and laughed at?" "I never thought of that, " said Denman; "but I suppose it is a veryvital reason for a woman. Yet, it's too bad. This boat is sure to becaptured, and there may be gun fire. It's a bad place for you. But, Florrie--let me tell you. Did you see what came on board from theyacht?" "Boxes, and barrels, and the water. " "Yes, and some of those boxes contained whisky and brandy. Whisky andbrandy make men forget that they are men. Have you a key for your door?" "No; I never saw one. " Denman tried his bunch of keys on the stateroom door until he found theright one. This he took off the ring and inserted in the lock. "Lock your door every time you go in there, " he said, impressively;"and, Florrie, another thing--keep that pretty face of yours out ofsight of these men. Go right in there now and replace the bandages. Then, after a while, about nine o'clock, go on deck for a walk around, and then let me have your rig. I want a daylight look at things. " She acquiesced, and he went back to his room, locking himself in, justin time to escape the notice of Billings, who had come for the tray. "Are you fellows going to deprive me of all exercise?" he demanded. "Even a man in irons is allowed to walk the deck a little. " "Don't know, sir, " answered Billings. "Forsythe is the man to talk to. " "I'll do more than talk to him, " growled Denman between his teeth. "Carry my request for exercise to him. Say that I demand the privilegesof a convict. " "Very good, sir, " answered Billings as he went out. In a few moments he was back with the news that Forsythe had profanelydenied the request. Whereat Denman's heart hardened the more. He remained quiet until two bells--nine o'clock--had struck, then wentout and approached the after door, just in time to see Florrie's shadowpass across the glass as she mounted the stairs. He waited, and in aboutfive minutes she came down, and, no doubt seeing his shadow on the door, tapped gently. He promptly opened it, and she said: "Leave the door open and I will throw you my things in a minute. Theyare drinking up there. " "Drinking!" he mused, as he waited. "Well, perhaps I can get a gun ifthey drink to stupidity. " Soon Florrie's hand opened the door, and the garments came through. Denman had little trouble now in donning them, and, with his head tiedup as before, he passed through the captain's apartment to the deck. Itwas a mild, sunshiny morning, with little wind, and that from thenortheast. White globes of cloud showed here and there, and Denman knewthem for the unmistakable sign of the trade winds. But he was moreinterested in matters on deck. All hands except Billings, who wassinging in the galley, and Munson, one of the wireless men, wereclustered around the forward funnel; and there were several bottlescirculating around. Forsythe, with a sextant in his hand, was beratingthem. "Go slow, you infernal ginks, " he snarled at them, "or you'll be sodrunk in an hour that you won't know your names. Ready--in there, Munson?" "Yes, " answered Munson from the pilot-house. Forsythe put the sextant to his eye, and swept it back and forth for afew moments. "Time, " he called suddenly, and, lowering the sextant, looked in onMunson. "Got it?" asked Munson. "Yes; and have it down in black and white. " Forsythe made a notationfrom the sextant on a piece of paper. "Now, again, " said Forsythe, and again he took a sight, shouted, "Time, "and made another notation. Then he went into the pilot-house and Munson came out and made theshortest cut to the nearest bottle. "He's taken chronometer sights, " mused Denman, as he leaned against thecompanion hood. "Well, he's progressing fast, but there never was adoubt that he is a scholar. " He went down, and through a crack of the door obtained Miss Florrie'spermission to keep the cloak and skirt for the morning, as he wanted tosee later how the drinking was progressing. Florrie consented, and hewent to his room to wait. As he waited, the sounds above grew ominous. Oaths and loud laughter, shouts, whoops, and grumblings, mingled with Forsythe's angry voice ofcommand, came down to him through the open deadlight. Soon he heard thethumping of human bodies on deck, and knew there was a fight going on. A fight always appealed to him; and, yielding to this unworthycuriosity, Denman again passed through the captain's quarters, makingsure on the way that Florrie was locked in, and reached the deck. There were two fights in progress, one a stand-up-and-knock-down affairnear the pilot-house; the other a wrestling match amidships. He couldnot recognize the contestants, and, with the thought that perhapsForsythe was one of them, stepped forward a few feet to observe. At this moment Billings--the cheerful Billings--came up the galleyhatch, no longer cheerful, but morose of face and menacing of gait, asis usual with this type of man when drunk. He spied Denman in his skirt, cloak, hat, and bandage, and, with a clucking chuckle in his throat anda leering grin on his face, made for him. "Say, old girl, " he said, thickly. "Let's have a kiss. " Denman, anxious about his position and peculiar privilege, backed away;but the unabashed pursuer still pursued, and caught him at thecompanion. He attempted to pass his arm around Denman, but did notsucceed. Denman pushed him back a few feet; then, with the whole weightof his body behind it, launched forth his fist, and struck the suitorsquarely between the eyes. Billings was lifted off his feet and hurled backward his whole lengthbefore he reached the deck; then he lay still for a moment, and as heshowed signs of life, Denman darted down to the wardroom, where he shedhis disguise as quickly as possible. Then he roused Florrie, passed thegarments in to her, warned her to keep her door locked, and went to hisown room, locking the doors behind him. He waited and listened, while the shouts and oaths above grew less, andfinally silent, though at times he recognized Forsythe's threateningvoice. He supposed that by now all of them except Forsythe were stupidlydrunk, and was much surprised when, at eight bells, Billings opened thedoor with his dinner, well cooked and savory. He was not quite sober, but as sober as a drunken man may become who has had every nerve, sinew, and internal organ shocked as by the kick of a mule. "Bad times on deck, sir, " he said. "This drinkin's all to the bad. " Heleered comically through his closed and blackened eyelids, and tried tosmile; but it was too painful, and his face straightened. "Why, what has happened?" inquired Denman. "I heard the row, butcouldn't see. " "Nothin' serious, sir, " answered Billings, "except to me. Say, sir--thatwoman aft. Keep away from her. Take it from me, sir, she's a bad un. Gota punch like a battering-ram. Did you ever get the big end of ahandspike jammed into your face by a big man, sir? Well, that's the kindof a punch she has. " Billings departed, and Denman grinned maliciously while he ate hisdinner; and, after Billings had taken away the dishes--with morecomments on the woman's terrible punch--Denman went out into thewardroom, intending to visit Miss Florrie. A glance overhead stoppedhim, and sent him back. The lubber's point on the telltale marked duewest northwest. CHAPTER XII He sat down to think it out. Sampson had hinted at big things talkedabout. Billings had spoken of a vote--to stay at sea or not. However, there could have been no vote since Billings' last visit because oftheir condition. But Forsythe had indubitably taken chronometer sightsin the morning, and, being most certainly sober, had doubtless workedthem out and ascertained the longitude, which, with a meridianobservation at noon, would give him the position of the yacht. The "big things" requiring a vote were all in Forsythe's head, and hehad merely anticipated the vote. Not knowing their position himself, except as indicated by the trade-wind clouds, Denman could only surmisethat a west northwest course would hit the American coast somewherebetween Boston and Charleston. But what they wanted there was beyond hiscomprehension. He gave up the puzzle at last, and visited Florrie, finding her dressed, swathed in the bandage, and sitting in the outer apartment, reading. Briefly he explained the occurrences on deck, and, as all was quiet now, asked her to step up and investigate. She did so, and returned. "Forsythe is steering, " she said, "and two or three are awake, butstaggering around, and several others are asleep on the deck. " "Well, " he said, hopefully, "Forsythe evidently can control himself, butnot the others. If they remain drunk, or get drunker, I mean to dosomething to-night. No use trying now. " "What will you do, Billie?" she asked, with concern in her voice. "I don't know. I'll only know when I get at it. I hope that Forsythewill load up, too. Hello! What's up? Run up, Florrie, and look. " The engine had stopped, and Forsythe's furious invective could be heard. Florrie ran up the steps, peeped out, and returned. "He is swearing at some one, " she said. "So it seems, " said Denman. "Let me have a look. " He ascended, and carefully peeped over the companion hood. Forsythe waslooking down the engine-room hatch, and his voice came clear anddistinct as he anathematized the engineers below. "Shut off your oil, you drunken mutts, " he vociferated. "If the wholefour of you can't keep steam on the steering-gear, shut it off--all ofit, I say. Shut off every burner and get into your bunks till you'resober. " Then Sampson's deep voice arose from the hatch. "You'll stop talkinglike that to me, my lad, before long, " he said, "or I'll break some o'your bones. " "Shut off the oil--every burner, " reiterated Forsythe. "We'll drift fora while. " "Right you are, " sang out another voice, which Denman recognized asDwyer's. "And here, you blooming crank, take a drink and get into a goodhumor. " "Pass it up, then. I need a drink by this time. _But shut off thatoil. _" Denman saw Forsythe reach down and bring up a bottle, from which he tooka deep draught. The electric lights slowly dimmed in the cabin, indicating the slowing down of the dynamo engine; then they went out. Denman descended, uneasy in mind, into the half darkness of the cabin. He knew, from what he had learned of Forsythe, that the first drinkwould lead to the second, and the third, and that his example wouldinfluence the rest to further drinking; but he gave none of his fears toFlorrie. He simply bade her to go into her room and lock the door. Thenhe went to his own room against the possible advent of Billings atsupper-time. But there was no supper for any that evening. Long before the time forit pandemonium raged above; and the loudest, angriest voice was that ofForsythe, until, toward the last, Sampson's voice rose above it, and, asa dull thud on the deck came to Denman's ears, he knew that his fist hadsilenced it. Evidently the sleeping men had wakened to furtherpotations; and at last the stumbling feet of some of them approached thestern. Then again came Sampson's voice. "Come back here, " he roared. "Keep away from that companion, the lot ofyou, or I'll give you what I gave Forsythe. " A burst of invective and malediction answered him, and then there werethe sounds of conflict, even the crashing of fists as well as the thudson the deck, coming to Denman through the deadlight. "Forrard wi' you all, " continued Sampson between the sounds of impact;and soon the shuffling of feet indicated a retreat. Denman, who hadopened his door, ready for a rush to Florrie's defense, now went aft toreassure her. She opened the door at his tap and his voice through thekeyhole. "It's all right for the present, Florrie, " he said. "While Sampson issober they won't come aft again. " "Oh, Billie, " she gasped. "I hope so. Don't desert me, Billie. " "Don't worry, " he said, reassuringly. "They'll all be stupid beforelong, and then--to-night--there will be something doing on our side. Now, I must be in my room when Billings comes, or until I'm sure hewill not come. And you stay here. I'll be on hand if anything happens. " He went back to his room, but Billings did not come with his supper. Andone by one the voices above grew silent, and the shuffling footstepsended in thuds, as their owners dropped to the deck; and when darknesshad closed down and all above was still, Denman crept out toreconnoiter. He reached the door leading to the captain's room, and wasjust about to open it when a scream came to his ears. "Billie! Billie--come--come quick! Help!" Then a tense voice: "Shut up your noise in there and open the door. I only want to have atalk with you. " Denman was into the room before the voice had ceased, and in thedarkness barely made out the figure of a man fumbling at the knob of thestateroom door. He knew, as much by intuition as by recognition of thevoice, that it was Forsythe, and, without a word of warning, sprang athis throat. With an oath Forsythe gripped him, and they swayed back and forth in thesmall cabin, locked together in an embrace that strained muscles andsinews to the utmost. Forsythe expended breath and energy in curses. Denman said nothing until Florrie screamed again, then he found voice tocall out: "All right, Florrie, I've got him. " She remained silent while the battle continued. At first it was awrestling match, each with a right arm around the body of the other, andwith Denman's left hand gripping Forsythe's left wrist. Their left handsswayed about, above their heads, to the right, to the left, and downbetween the close pressure of their chests. Denman soon found that he was the stronger of arm, for he twisted hisenemy's arm around as he pleased; but he also found that he was notstronger of fingers, for suddenly Forsythe broke away from his grip andseized tightly the wrist of Denman. Thus reversed, the battle continued, and as they reeled about, chairs, table, and desk were overturned, making a racket as the combatantsstumbled around over and among them that would have aroused all handshad they been but normally asleep. As it was, there was no interruption, and the two battled on in thedarkness to an end. It came soon. Forsythe suddenly released his claspon Denman's wrist and gripped his throat, then as suddenly he broughthis right hand up, and Denman felt the pressure of his thumb on hisright eyeball. He was being choked and gouged; and, strangely enough, inthis exigency there came to him no thought of the trick by which he hadmastered Jenkins. But instead, he mustered his strength, pushed Forsythefrom him, and struck out blindly. It was a lucky blow, for his eyes were filled with lights of varioushue, and he could not see; yet his fist caught Forsythe on the chin, andDenman heard him crash back over the upturned table. Forsythe uttered no sound, and when the light had gone out of his eyes, Denman groped for him, and found him, just beginning to move. He groanedand sat up. CHAPTER XIII "No, you don't, " said Denman, grimly. "Fair play is wasted on you, soback you go to the Land of Nod. " He drew back his right fist, and again sent it crashing on the chin ofhis victim, whom he could just see in the starlight from the companion, and Forsythe rolled back. Like Jenkins, he had arrayed himself in an officer's uniform, and therewas no convenient neckerchief with which to bind him; but Denman tookhis own, and securely tied his hands behind his back, and with anotherstring tie from his room tied his ankles together. Then only did hethink of Florrie, and called to her. She answered hysterically. "It's all right, Florrie girl, " he said. "It was Forsythe, but I'veknocked him silly and have him tied hand and foot. Go to sleep now. " "I can't go to sleep, Billie, " she wailed. "I can't. Don't leave mealone any more. " "I must, Florrie, " he answered. "I'm going on deck to get them all. I'llnever have a better chance. Keep quiet and don't come out, no matterwhat you hear. " "But come back soon, Billie, " she pleaded. "I will, soon as I can. But stay quiet in there until I do. " He stole softly up the stairs and looked forward. The stars illuminatedthe deck sufficiently for him to see the prostrate forms scatteredabout, but not enough for him to distinguish one from another until hehad crept close. The big machinist, Sampson, he found nearest to thecompanion, as though he had picked this spot to guard, even in drunkensleep, the sacred after cabin. Denman's heart felt a little twinge ofpain as he softly untied and withdrew the big fellow's neckerchief andbound his hands behind him. Sampson snored on through the process. The same with the others. Kelly, Daniels, and Billings lay near theafter funnel; Munson, Casey, Dwyer, and King were in the scuppersamidships; Riley, Davis, and Hawkes were huddled close to thepilot-house; and not a man moved in protest as Denman bound them, oneand all, with their own neckerchiefs. There was one more, the strickenJenkins in the forecastle; and Denman descended and examined him by thelight of a match. He was awake, and blinked and grimaced at Denman, striving to speak. "Sorry for you, Jenkins, " said Billie. "You'll get well in time, butyou'll have to wait. You're harmless enough now, however. " There was more to do before he felt secure of his victory. He must tietheir ankles; and, as neckerchiefs had run out, he sought, by the lightof matches, the "bos'n's locker" in the fore peak. Here he found spunyarn, and, cutting enough lengths of it, he came up and finished thejob, tying knots so hard and seamanly that the strongest fingers of afellow prisoner could not untie them. Then he went aft. Forsythe was still unconscious. But he regained his senses while Denmandragged him up the steps and forward beside his enemy, Sampson; and heemitted various sulphurous comments on the situation that cannot berecorded here. Denman wanted the weapons; but, with engines dead, there was no lightsave from his very small supply of matches, and for the simple, andperhaps very natural, desire to save these for his cigar lights, heforbore a search for them beyond an examination of each man's pockets. He found nothing, however. It seemed that they must have agreed upondisarmament before the drinking began. But from Forsythe he secured abunch of keys, which he was to find useful later on. All else was well. Each man was bound hand and foot, Jenkins was still aliving corpse; and Forsythe, the soberest of the lot, had apparentlysuccumbed to the hard knocks of the day, and gone to sleep again. SoDenman went down, held a jubilant conversation with Florrie through thekeyhole, and returned to the deck, where, with a short spanner in hishand--replevined from the engine room for use in case of anemergency--he spent the night on watch; for, with all lights out, awatch was necessary. But nothing happened. The men snored away their drunkenness, and atdaylight most of them were awake and aware of their plight. Denman paidno attention to their questions; but, when the light permitted, went ona search for the arms and irons, which he found in the forecastle, carefully stowed in a bunk. He counted the pistols, and satisfied himself that all were there; thenhe carried them aft to his room, belted himself with one of them, andreturned for the cutlasses, which he hid in another room. But the irons he spread along the deck, and, while they cursed andmaligned him, he replaced the silk and spun-yarn fetters with manaclesof steel. Next he dragged the protesting prisoners from forward and aftuntil he had them bunched amidships, and then, walking back and forthbefore them, delivered a short, comprehensive lecture on the unwisdom ofstealing torpedo-boat destroyers and getting drunk. Like all lecturers, he allowed his audience to answer, and when he hadrefuted the last argument, he unlocked the irons of Billings and Danielsand sternly ordered them to cook breakfast. They meekly arose and went to the galley, from which, before long, savory odors arose. And, while waiting for breakfast, Denman arousedMiss Florrie and brought her on deck, clothed and bandaged, to show herhis catch. "And what will you do now, Billie?" she asked, as she looked at theunhappy men amidships. "Haven't the slightest idea. I've got to think it out. I'll have torelease some of them to work the boat, and I'll have to shut down andiron them while I sleep, I suppose. I've already freed the two cooks, and we'll have breakfast soon. " "I'm glad of that, " she answered. "There was no supper last night. " "And I'm hungry as a wolf myself. Well, they are hungry, too. We'll haveour breakfast on deck before they get theirs. Perhaps the sight willbring them to terms. " "Why cannot I help, Billie?" asked the girl. "I could watch while youwere asleep, and wake you if anything happened. " "Oh, no, Florrie girl. Of course I'll throw the stuff overboard, but Iwouldn't trust some of them, drunk or sober. " Billings soon reported breakfast ready, and asked how he should servethe captives. "Do not serve them at all, " said Denman, sharply. "Bring the cabin tableon deck, and place it on the starboard quarter. Serve breakfast for two, and you and Daniels eat your own in the galley. " "Very good, sir, " answered the subdued Billings, with a glance at thelong, blue revolver at Denman's waist. He departed, and with Daniels'help arranged the breakfast as ordered. Florrie was forced to remove her bandage; but as she faced aft at thetable her face was visible to Denman only. He faced forward, and whilehe ate he watched the men, who squirmed as the appetizing odors ofbroiled ham, corn bread, and coffee assailed their nostrils. On eachcountenance, besides the puffed, bloated appearance coming of heavy andunaccustomed drinking, was a look of anxiety and disquiet. But they werefar from being conquered--in spirit, at least. Breakfast over, Denman sent Florrie below, ordered the dishes and tablebelow, and again put the irons on Billings and Daniels. Then he wentamong them. "What do you mean to do?" asked Forsythe, surlily, as Denman looked downon him. "Keep us here and starve us?" "I will keep you in irons while I have the power, " answered Denman, "nomatter what I may do with the others. Sampson, " he said to the bigmachinist, "you played a man's part last night, and I feel strongly infavor of releasing you on parole. You understand the nature of parole, do you not?" "I do, sir, " answered the big fellow, thickly, "and if I give it, Iwould stick to it. What are the conditions, sir?" "That you stand watch and watch with me while we take this boat back toBoston; that you aid me in keeping this crowd in subjection; that you doyour part in protecting the lady aft from annoyance. In return, Ipromise you my influence at Washington. I have some, and can arousemore. You will, in all probability, be pardoned. " "No, sir, " answered Sampson, promptly. "I am one of this crowd--you arenot one of us. I wouldn't deserve a pardon if I went back on mymates--even this dog alongside of me. He's one of us, too; and, while Ihave smashed him, and will smash him again, I will not accept my libertywhile he, or any of the others, is in irons. " Denman bowed low to him, and went on. He questioned only a few--thosewho seemed trustworthy--but met with the same response, and he leftthem, troubled in mind. CHAPTER XIV He sat down in a deck chair and lighted a cigar as an aid to his mentalprocesses. Three projects presented themselves to his mind, each ofwhich included, of course, the throwing overboard of the liquor and thesecure hiding of the arms, except a pistol for himself, and one forFlorrie. The first was to release them all, and, backed by his pistol, hisuniform, and the power of the government, to treat them as mutineers, and shoot them if they defied or disobeyed him. To this was the logical objection that they were already more thanmutineers--that there was no future for them; that, even though heoverawed and conquered them, compelling them to work the boat shoreward, each passing minute would find them more keen to revolt; and that, ifthey rushed him in a body, he could only halt a few--the others wouldmaster him. The second plan was born of his thoughts before breakfast. It was torelease one cook, one engineer, and one helmsman at a time; to guardthem until sleep was necessary, then to shut off steam, lock them up, and allow the boat to drift while they slept. Against this plan was theabsolute necessity, to a seaman's mind, of a watch--even a one-manwatch--and this one man could work mischief while he slept--could even, if handy with tools, file out a key that would unlock the shackles. The third plan was to starve them into contrition and subjection, torturing them the while with the odors of food cooked for himself andFlorrie. But this was an inhuman expedient, only to be considered as alast resource; and, besides, it would not affect the man doing thecooking, who could keep himself well fed and obdurate. And, even thoughthey surrendered and worked their way back toward prison, would theirsurrender last beyond a couple of good meals? He thought not. Yet out ofthis plan came another, and he went down the companion. "Florrie, " he called, "can you cook?" She appeared at the stateroom door without her bandages, smiling at hisquery, and for the moment Denman forgot all about his plans. Though thepink tinge still overspread her face, the blisters were gone, and, inthe half light of the cabin, it shone with a new beauty that had notappeared to him in the garish sunlight when at breakfast--when he wasintent upon watching the men. His heart gave a sudden jump, and hisvoice was a little unsteady as he repeated the question. "Why, yes, Billie, " she answered, "I know something about cooking--notmuch, though. " "Will you cook for yourself and me?" he asked. "If so, I'll keep the menlocked up, and we'll wait for something to come along. " "I will, " she said; "but you must keep them locked up, Billie. " "I'll do that, and fit you out with a pistol, too. I'll get you onenow. " He brought her a revolver, fully loaded, with a further supply ofcartridges, and fitted the belt around her waist. Then, his heart stilljumping, he went on deck. "Love her?" he mused, joyously. "Of course. Why didn't I think of itbefore?" But there was work to be done, and he set himself about it. He searchedthe storerooms and inspected the forecastle. In the first he foundseveral cases of liquor--also a barrel of hard bread. In the forecastlehe found that the water supply was furnished by a small faucet on theafter bulkhead. Trying it, he found a clear flow. Then he selected fromhis bunch of keys the one belonging to the forecastle door, and put itin the lock--outside. Next, with a few cautionary remarks to the men, heunlocked their wrist irons one by one; and, after making each man placehis hands in front, relocked the irons. "Now, then, " he said, standing up over the last man, "you can helpyourselves and Jenkins to bread and water. One by one get up on yourfeet and pass into the forecastle. If any man needs help, I will assisthim. " Some managed to scramble to their feet unaided, while others could not. These Denman helped; but, as he assisted them with one hand, holding hispistol in the other, there was no demonstration against him with doubledfists--which is possible and potential. Mumbling and muttering, theyfloundered down the small hatch and forward into the forecastle. Thelast in the line was Sampson, and Denman stopped him. "I've a job for you, Sampson, " he said, after the rest had disappeared. "You are the strongest man in the crowd. Go down the hatch, but aft tothe storeroom, and get that barrel of hard bread into the forecastle. You can do it without my unlocking you. " "Very good, sir, " answered Sampson, respectfully, and descended. Denman watched him from above, as, with his manacled hands, he twirledthe heavy barrel forward and into the men's quarters. "Shut the door, turn the key on them, and come aft here, " he commanded. Sampson obeyed. "Now, lift up on deck and then toss overboard every case of liquor inthat storeroom. " "Very good, sir. " And up came six cases, as easily in his powerful gripas though they had been bandboxes, and then he hoisted his own huge bulkto the deck. "Over the side with them all, " commanded Denman. Sampson picked them up, and, whether or not it came from temper, threwthem from where he stood, above and beyond the rail; but the fifthstruck the rail, and fell back to the deck. He advanced and threw itover. "Carry the other one, " said Denman, and Sampson lifted it up. It was alow, skeleton rail, and, as the big man hobbled toward it, somehow--neither he nor Denman ever knew how--his foot slipped, and heand the box went overboard together. The box floated, but when Sampsoncame to the surface it was out of his reach. "Help!" he gurgled. "I can't swim. " Without a thought, Denman laid his pistol on the deck, shed his coat, and dove overboard, reaching the struggling man in three strokes. "Keep still, " he commanded, as he got behind and secured a light butsecure grip on Sampson's hair. "Tread water if you can, but don'tstruggle. I'll tow you back to the boat. " But, though Sampson grew quiet and Denman succeeded in reaching thedark, steel side, there was nothing to catch hold of--not a trailingrope, nor eyebolt, nor even the open deadlights, for they were high outof reach. The crew were locked in the forecastle, and there was onlyFlorrie. There was no wind, and only the long, heaving ground swell, which rolled the boat slightly, but not enough to bring thosetantalizing deadlights within reach; and at last, at the sound of dishesrattling in the galley, Denman called out. "Florrie!" he shouted. "Florrie, come on deck. Throw a rope over. Florrie--oh, Florrie!" CHAPTER XV She came hurriedly, and peered over the rail with a startled, frightenedexpression. Then she screamed. "Can you see any ropes lying on deck, Florrie?" called Denman. "If youcan, throw one over. " She disappeared for a moment, then came back, and cried out frantically:"No, there is nothing--no ropes. What shall I do?" "Go down and get the tablecloth, " said Denman, as calmly as he could, with his nose just out of water and a big, heavy, frightened man bearinghim down. Florrie vanished, and soon reappeared with the tablecloth of themorning's breakfast. It was a cloth of generous size, and she lowered itover. "Tie one corner to the rail, Florrie, " said Denman, while he held theirresponsible Sampson away from the still frail support. She obeyed him, tying the knot that all women tie but which no sailor can name, and thenDenman led his man up to it. Sampson clutched it with both hands, drew it taut, and supported hisweight on it. Fortunately the knot did not slip. Denman also heldhimself up by it until he had recovered his breath, then cast about formeans of getting on board. He felt that the tablecloth would not bearhis weight and that of his water-soaked clothing, and temporarily gaveup the plan of climbing it. Forward were the signal halyards; but they, too, were of small line, and, even if doubled again and again until strong enough, he knew byexperience the wonderful strength of arm required in climbing out ofthe water hand over hand. This thought also removed the tablecloth fromthe problem; but suggested another by its association with the necessityof feet in climbing with wet clothes. He remembered that forward, just under the anchor davit, was a small, fixed ladder, bolted into the bow of the boat for use in getting theanchor. So, cautioning Sampson not to let go, he swam forward, withFlorrie's frightened face following above, and, reaching the ladder, easily climbed on board. He was on the high forecastle deck, but thegirl had reached it before him. "Billie, " she exclaimed, as she approached him. "Oh, Billie--" He caught her just as her face grew white and her figure limp, andforgot Sampson for the moment. The kisses he planted on her lips andcheek forestalled the fainting spell, and she roused herself. "I thought you would drown, Billie, " she said, weakly, with her face ofa deeper pink than he had seen. "Don't drown, Billie--don't do thatagain. Don't leave me alone. " "I won't, Florrie, " he answered, stoutly and smilingly. "I'm born to behanged, you know. I won't drown. Come on--I must get Sampson. " They descended--Denman picking up his pistol on the way--and foundSampson quietly waiting at the end of the tablecloth. With his lifetemporarily safe, his natural courage had come to him. "I'm going to tow you forward to the anchor ladder, Sampson. You'll haveto climb it the best way you can; for there isn't a purchase on boardthat will bear your weight. Hold tight now. " He untied Florrie's knot, and slowly dragged the big man forward, experiencing a check at the break of the forecastle, where he had tohalt and piece out the tablecloth with a length of signal halyards, butfinally got Sampson to the ladder. Sampson had some trouble in mounting, for his shackles would not permit one hand to reach up to a rung withoutletting go with the other; but he finally accomplished the feat, andfloundered over the rail, where he sat on deck to recover himself. Finally he scrambled to his feet. "Mr. Denman, " he said, "you've saved my life for me, and whatever I cando for you, except"--his face took on a look of embarrassment--"exceptgoing back on my mates, as I said, I will do, at any time of my life. " "That was what I might have suggested, " answered Denman, calmly, "thatyou aid me in controlling this crew until we reach Boston. " "I cannot, sir. There is prison for life for all of us if we are taken;and this crowd will break out, sir--mark my words. You won't have chargevery long. But--in that case--I mean--I might be of service. I cancontrol them all, even Forsythe, when I am awake. " "Forsythe!" grinned Denman. "You can thank Forsythe for your round-up. If he hadn't remained sober enough to attempt to break into MissFleming's room while you were all dead drunk, I might not have knockedhim out, and might not have roused myself to tie you all hand and foot. " "Did he do that, sir?" asked Sampson, his rugged features darkening. "He did; but I got there in time to knock him out. " "Well, sir, " said Sampson, "I can promise you this much. I must belocked up, of course--I realize that. But, if we again get charge, Imust be asleep part of the time, and so I will see to it that youretain possession of your gun--and the lady, too, as I see she carriesone; also, sir, that you will have the run of the deck--on parole, ofcourse. " "That is kind of you, " smiled Denman; "but I don't mean to let you takecharge. It is bread and water for you all until something comes along tofurnish me a crew. Come on, Sampson--to the forecastle. " Sampson preceded him down the steps, down the hatch, and to theforecastle door, through which Denman admitted him; then relocked thedoor and bunched the key with his others. Then he joined Florrie, whereshe had waited amidships. "Now, then, Florrie girl, " he said, jubilantly, "you can have the use ofthe deck, and go and come as you like. I'm going to turn in. You see, Iwas awake all night. " "Are they secured safely, Billie?" she asked, tremulously. "Got them all in the forecastle, in double irons, with plenty ofhard-tack and water. We needn't bother about them any more. Just keepyour eyes open for a sail, or smoke on the horizon; and if you seeanything, call me. " "I will, " she answered; "and I'll have dinner ready at noon. " "That's good. A few hours' sleep will be enough, and then I'll try andpolish up what I once learned about wireless. And say, Florrie. Nexttime you go below, look in the glass and see how nice you look. " She turned her back to him, and he went down. In five minutes he wasasleep. And, as he slipped off into unconsciousness, there came to hismind the thought that one man in the forecastle was not manacled; andwhen Florrie wakened him at noon the thought was still with him, but hedismissed it. Jenkins was helpless for a while, unable to move orspeak, and need not be considered. CHAPTER XVI Florrie had proved herself a good cook, and they ate dinner together, then Denman went on deck. The boat was still rolling on a calm sea; butthe long, steady, low-moving hills of blue were now mingled with a crossswell from the northwest, which indicated a push from beyond the horizonnot connected with the trade wind. And in the west a low bank of cloudrose up from, and merged its lower edge with, the horizon; while stillhigher shone a "mackerel sky, " and "mare's tail" clouds--sure index ofcoming wind. But there was nothing on the horizon in the way of sail orsmoke; and, anticipating another long night watch, he began preparationsfor it. Three red lights at the masthead were needed as a signal that theboat--a steamer--was not under command. These he found in the lamp room. He filled, trimmed, and rigged them to the signal halyards on thebridge, ready for hoisting at nightfall. Then, for a day signal ofdistress, he hoisted an ensign--union down--at the small yard aloft. Next in his mind came the wish to know his position, and he examined thelog book. Forsythe had made an attempt to start a record; and out of hiscrude efforts Denman picked the figures which he had noted down as thelatitude and longitude at noon of the day before. He corrected this withthe boat's course throughout the afternoon until the time of shuttingoff the oil feed, and added the influence of a current, which his moreexpert knowledge told him of. Thirty-one, north, and fifty-five, forty, west was the approximate position, and he jotted it down. This done, he thought of the possibility of lighting the boat throughthe night, and sought the engine room. He was but a theoreticalengineer, having devoted most of his studies to the duties of a lineofficer; but he mastered in a short time the management of the small gasengine that worked the dynamo, and soon had it going. Electric bulbs inthe engine room sprang into life; and, after watching the engine for ashort time, he decided that it required only occasional inspection, andsought the deck. The cross sea was increasing, and the bank to the northwest was largerand blacker, while the mare's tails and mackerel scales had given way tocirrus clouds that raced across the sky. Damp gusts of wind blew, coldand heavy, against his cheek; and he knew that a storm was coming thatwould try out the low-built craft to the last of its powers. But beforeit came he would polish up his forgotten knowledge of wirelesstelegraphy, and searched the wireless room for books. He found everything but what he wanted most--the code book, by which hecould furbish up on dots and dashes. Angry at his bad memory, he studiedthe apparatus, found it in working order, and left the task to go ondeck. An increased rolling of the boat threatened the open deadlights. Trusting that the men in the forecastle would close theirs, he attendedto all the others, then sought Florrie in the galley, where she had justfinished the washing of the dishes. Her face was not pale, but there wasa wild look in her eyes, and she was somewhat unsteady on her feet. "Oh, Billie, I'm sick--seasick, " she said, weakly. "I'm a poor sailor. " "Go to bed, little girl, " he said, gently. "We're going to have somebad weather, but we're all right. So stay in bed. " He supported her aft through the wardroom to her stateroom door in theafter cabin. "I'll get supper, Florrie, and, if you can eat, I'll bringyou some. Lie down now, and don't get up until I call you, or until youfeel better. " He again sought the deck. The wind now came steadily, while the wholesky above and the sea about were assuming the gray hue of a gale. Heclosed all hatches and companions, taking a peep down into the engineroom before closing it up. The dynamo was buzzing finely. A few splashes of rain fell on him, and he clothed himself in oilskinsand rubber boots to watch out the gale, choosing to remain aft--wherehis footsteps over her might reassure the seasick girl below--instead ofthe bridge, where he would have placed himself under normal conditions. The afternoon wore on, each hour marked by a heavier pressure of thewind and an increasing height to the seas, which, at first just lappingat the rail, now lifted up and washed across the deck. The boat rolledsomewhat, but not to add to his discomfort or that of those below; andthere were no loose articles on deck to be washed overboard. So Denman paced the deck, occasionally peeping down the engine-roomhatch at the dynamo, and again trying the drift by the old-fashionedchip-and-reel log at the stern. When tired, he would sit down in thedeck chair, which he had wedged between the after torpedo and thetaffrail, then resume his pacing. As darkness closed down, he sought Florrie's door, and asked her if shewould eat something. She was too ill, she said; and, knowing that nowords could comfort her, he left her, and in the galley ate his ownsupper--tinned meat, bread, and coffee. Again the deck, the intermittent pacing, and resting in the chair. Thegale became a hurricane in the occasional squalls; and at these timesthe seas were beaten to a level of creamy froth luminous with aphosphorescent glow, while the boat's rolling motion would give way to astiff inclination to starboard of fully ten degrees. Then the squallswould pass, the seas rise the higher for their momentary suppression, and the boat resume her wallowing, rolling both rails under, andpractically under water, except for the high forecastle deck, thefunnels, and the companions. Denman did not worry. With the wind northwest, the storm center wassurely to the north and east-ward of him; and he knew that, according tothe laws of storms in the North Atlantic, it would move away from himand out to sea. And so it continued until about midnight, when he heard the rasping ofthe companion hood, then saw Florrie's face peering out. He sprang tothe companion. "Billie! Oh, Billie!" she said, plaintively. "Let me come up here withyou?" "But you'll feel better lying down, dear, " he said. "Better go back. " "It's so close and hot down there. Please let me come up. " "Why, yes, Florrie, if you like; but wait until I fit you out. Come downa moment. " They descended, and he found rubber boots, a sou'wester, and a longoilskin coat, which she donned in her room. Then he brought up anotherchair, lashed it--with more neckties--to his own, and seated her in it. "Don't be frightened, " he said, as a sea climbed on board and washedaft, nearly flooding their rubber boots and eliciting a little screamfrom the girl. "We're safe, and the wind will blow out in a few hours. " He seated himself beside her. As they faced to leeward, the long brimsof the sou'westers sheltered their faces from the blast of rain andspume, permitting conversation; but they did not converse for a time, Denman only reaching up inside the long sleeve of her big coat to whereher small hand nestled, soft and warm, in its shelter. He squeezed itgently, but there was no answering pressure, and he contented himselfwith holding it. He was a good sailor, but a poor lover, and--a reeling, water-washeddeck in a gale of wind is an embarrassing obstacle to love-making. Yethe squeezed again, after ten minutes of silence had gone by and severalseas had bombarded their feet. Still no response in kind, and he spoke. "Florrie, " he said, as gently as he could when he was compelled toshout, "do you remember the letter you sent me the other day?" "The other day, " she answered. "Why, it seems years since then. " "Last week, Florrie. It made me feel like--like thirty cents. " "Why, Billie?" "Oh, the unwritten roast between the lines, little girl. I knew what youthought of me. I knew that I'd never made good. " "How--what do you mean?" "About the fight--years ago. I was to come back and lick him, you know, and didn't--that's all. " "Are you still thinking of that, Billie? Why, you've won. You are anofficer, while he is a sailor. " "Yes, but he licked me at school, and I know you expected me to comeback. " "And you did not come back. You never let me hear from you. You mighthave been dead for years before I could know it. " "Is that it, Florrie?" he exclaimed, in amazement. "Was it me youthought of? I supposed you had grown to despise me. " She did not answer this; but when he again pressed her hand sheresponded. Then, over the sounds of the storm, he heard a little sob;and, reaching over, drew her face close to his, and kissed her. "I'm sorry, Florrie, but I didn't know. I've loved you all these years, but I did not know it until a few days ago. And I'll never forget it, Florrie, and I promise you--and myself, too--that I'll still make good, as I promised before. " Poor lover though he was, he had won. She did not answer, but her ownsmall hand reached for his. And so they passed the night, until, just as a lighter gray shone in theeast, he noticed that one of the red lamps at the signal yard had goneout. As the lights were still necessary, he went forward to lower them;but, just as he was about to mount the bridge stairs, a crashing blowfrom two heavy fists sent him headlong and senseless to the deck. When he came to, he was bound hand and foot as he had bound themen--with neckerchiefs--and lay close to the forward funnel, with thewhole thirteen, Jenkins and all, looking down at him. But Jenkins wasnot speaking. Forsythe, searching Denman's pockets, was doing all thatthe occasion required. CHAPTER XVII When Sampson had entered the forecastle after his rescue by Denman, hefound a few of his mates in their bunks, the rest sitting around indisconsolate postures, some holding their aching heads, others lookingindifferently at him with bleary eyes. The apartment, long andtriangular in shape, was dimly lighted by four deadlights, two eachside, and for a moment Sampson could not distinguish one from another. "Where's my bag?" he demanded, generally. "I want dry clothes. " He groped his way to the bunk he had occupied, found his clothes bag, and drew out a complete change of garments. "Who's got a knife?" was his next request; and, as no one answered, herepeated the demand in a louder voice. "What d'you want of a knife?" asked Forsythe, with a slight snarl. "To cut your throat, you hang-dog scoundrel, " said Sampson, irately. "Forsythe, you speak kindly and gently to me while we're together, orI'll break some o' your small bones. Who's got a knife?" "Here's one, Sampson, " said Hawkes, offering one of the square-bladedjackknives used in the navy. "All right, Hawkes. Now, will you stand up and rip these wet duds offme? I can't get 'em off with the darbies in the way. " Hawkes stood up and obeyed him. Soon the dripping garments fell away, and Sampson rubbed himself dry with a towel, while Hawkes sleepilyturned in. "What kept you, and what happened?" asked Kelly. "Did he douse you witha bucket o' water?" Sampson did not answer at once--not until he had slashed the side seamsof a whole new suit, and crawled into it. Then, as he began fastening iton with buttons and strings, he said, coldly: "Worse than that. He's made me his friend. " "His friend?" queried two or three. "His friend, " repeated Sampson. "Not exactly while he has me lockedup, " he added; "but if I ever get out again--that's all. And his friendin some ways while I'm here. D'you hear that, Forsythe?" Forsythe did not answer, and Sampson went on: "And not only his friend, but the woman's too. Hear that, Forsythe?" Forsythe refused to answer. "That's right, and proper, " went on Sampson, as he fastened the lastbutton. "Hide your head and saw wood, you snake-eyed imitation of aman. " "What's up, Sampson?" wearily asked Casey from a bunk. "What doused you, and what you got on Forsythe now?" "I'll tell you in good time, " responded Sampson. "I'll tell you nowabout Denman. I threw all the booze overboard at his orders. Then _I_tumbled over; and, as I can't swim, would ha' been there yet if hehadn't jumped after me. Then we couldn't get up the side, and the womancome with a tablecloth, that held me up until I was towed to the anchorladder. That's all. I just want to hear one o' you ginks say a wordabout that woman that she wouldn't like to hear. That's for you all--andfor _you_, Forsythe, a little more in good time. " "Bully for the woman!" growled old Kelly. "Wonder if we treated herright. " "We treated her as well as we knew how, " said Sampson; "that is, all butone of us. But I've promised Denman, and the woman, through him, thatthey'll have a better show if we get charge again. " "Aw, forget it!" grunted Forsythe from his bunk. "She's no good. She'sbeen stuck on that baby since she was a kid. " Sampson went toward him, seized him by the shirt collar, and pulled himbodily from the bunk. Then, smothering his protesting voice by a grip onhis throat, slatted him from side to side as a farmer uses a flail, andthrew him headlong against the after bulkhead and half-way into an emptybunk. Sampson had uttered no word, and Forsythe only muttered as hecrawled back to his own bunk. But he found courage to say: "What do you pick on me for? If you hadn't all got drunk, you wouldn'tbe here. " "You mean, " said Sampson, quietly, "that if you hadn't remained soberenough to find your way into the after cabin and frighten the woman, wewouldn't ha' been here; for that's what roused Denman. " A few oaths and growls followed this, and men sat up in their bunks, while those that were out of their bunks stood up. Sampson sat down. "Is that so, Sampson?" "Got that right, old man?" "Sure of it?" theyasked, and then over the hubbub of profane indignation rose Forsythe'svoice. "Who gave you that?" he yelled. "Denman?" "Yes--Denman, " answered Sampson. "He lied. I did nothing of the--" "You lie yourself, you dog. You're showing on your chin the marks ofDenman's fist. " "You did that just now, " answered Forsythe, fingering a small, bleedingbruise. "I didn't hit you. I choked you. Denman knocked you out. " "Well, " answered Forsythe, forgetting the first accusation in the lightof this last, "it was a lucky blow in the dark. He couldn't do it in thedaylight. " "Self-convicted, " said Sampson, quietly. Then, for a matter of ten minutes, the air in the close compartmentmight have smelled sulphurous to one strange to forecastle discourse. Forsythe, his back toward them, listened quietly while they called himall the names, printable and unprintable, which angry and disgusted menmay think of. But when it had ended--when the last voice had silenced and the last mangone to the water faucet for a drink before turning in, Forsythe said: "I'll even things up with you fellows if I get on deck again. " Only a few grunts answered him, and soon all were asleep. They wakened, one by one, in the afternoon, to find the electric bulbsglowing, and the boat rolling heavily, while splashes of rain came inthrough the weather deadlights. These they closed; and, better humoredafter their sleep, and hungry as well, they attacked the barrel of breadand the water faucet. "He's started the dynamo, " remarked Riley, one of the engineers. "Whydon't he start the engine and keep her head to the sea?" "Because he knows too much, " came a hoarse whisper, and they turned toJenkins, who was sitting up, regarding them disapprovingly. "Because he knows too much, " he repeated, in the same hoarse whisper. "This is a so-called seagoing destroyer; but no one but a fool wouldbuck one into a head sea; and that's what's coming, with a big blow, too. Remember the English boat that broke her back in the North Sea?" "Hello, Jenkins--you alive?" answered one, and others asked of hishealth. "I'm pretty near all right, " he said to them. "I've been able to moveand speak a little for twenty-four hours, but I saved my energy. Iwasn't sure of myself, though, or I'd ha' nabbed Denman when he came inhere for the pistols. " "Has he got them?" queried a few, and they examined the empty bunk. "He sure has, " they continued. "Got 'em all. Oh, we're in for it. " "Not necessarily, " said Jenkins. "I've listened to all this powwow, andI gather that you got drunk to the last man, and he gathered you in. " "That's about it, Jenkins, " assented Sampson. "We all got gloriouslydrunk. " "And before you got drunk you made this pin-headed, educated rat"--hejerked his thumb toward Forsythe--"your commander. " "Well--we needed a navigator, and you were out of commission, Jenkins. " "I'm in commission now, though, and when we get on deck, we'll stillhave a navigator, and it won't be Denman, either. " "D'you mean, " began Forsythe, "that you'll take charge again, andmake--" "Yes, " said Jenkins, "make you navigate. Make you navigate under ordersand under fear of punishment. You're the worst-hammered man in thiscrowd; but hammering doesn't improve you. You'll be keelhauled, ortriced up by the thumbs, or spread-eagled over a boiler--but you'llnavigate. Now, shut up. " There was silence for a while, then one said: "You spoke about gettingon deck again, Jenkins. Got any plan?" "Want to go on deck now and stand watch in this storm?" Jenkinsretorted. "No; not unless necessary. " "Then get into your bunk and wait for this to blow over. If there is anyreal need of us, Denman will call us out. " This was good sailorly logic, and they climbed back into their bunks, tosmoke, to read, or to talk themselves to sleep again. As the wind andsea arose they closed the other two deadlights, and when darknessclosed down they turned out the dazzling bulbs, and slept through thenight as only sailors can. Just before daylight Jenkins lifted his big bulk out of the bunk, and, taking a key from his pocket, unlocked the forecastle door. He steppedinto the passage, and found the hatch loose on the coamings, then cameback and quietly wakened them all. "I found this key on the deck near the door first day aboard, " hevolunteered; "but put it in my pocket instead of the door. " They softly crept out into the passage and lifted the hatch; but it wasthe irrepressible and most certainly courageous Forsythe who was firstto climb up. He reached the deck just in time to dodge into the darknessbehind the bridge ladder at the sight of Denman coming forward to attendto the lamps; and it was he who sent both fists into the side ofDenman's face with force enough to knock him senseless. Then came theothers. CHAPTER XVIII "That'll do, Forsythe, " said Sampson, interrupting the flow ofbillingsgate. "We'll omit prayers and flowers at this funeral. Standup. " Forsythe arose, waving two bunches of keys and Denman's revolver. "Got him foul, " he yelled, excitedly. "All the keys and his gun. " "All right. Just hand that gun to me--what! You won't?" Forsythe had backed away at the command; but Sampson sprang upon him andeasily disarmed him. "Now, my lad, " he said, sternly, "just find the key of these darbies andunlock us. " Forsythe, muttering, "Got one good smash at him, anyhow, " found the keyof the handcuffs, and, first unlocking his own, went the rounds. Then hefound the key of the leg irons, and soon all were free, and the manaclestossed down the hatch to be gathered up later. Then big Jenkins reachedhis hand out to Forsythe--but not in token of amnesty. "The keys, " he said, in his hoarse whisper. "Aren't they safe enough with me?" queried Forsythe, hotly. Jenkins still maintained the outstretched hand, and Forsythe lookedirresolutely around. He saw no signs of sympathy. They were all closingin on him, and he meekly handed the two bunches to Jenkins, who pocketedthem. Meanwhile, Sampson had lifted Denman to his feet; and, as the boat stillrolled heavily, he assisted him to the bridge stairs, where he could geta grip on the railing with his fettered hands. Daylight had come, andDenman could see Florrie, still seated in the deck chair, lookingforward with frightened eyes. "Jenkins, step here a moment, " said Sampson; "and you otherfellows--keep back. " Jenkins drew near. "Did you hear, in the fo'castle, " Sampson went on, "what I said aboutMr. Denman saving my life, and that I promised him parole and thepossession of his gun in case we got charge again?" Jenkins nodded, but said: "He broke his parole before. " "So would you under the same provocation. Forsythe called him a milk-fedthief. Wouldn't you have struck out?" Jenkins nodded again, and Sampson continued: "All right. My proposition is to place Mr. Denman under parole oncemore, to give him and the lady the run of the deck abaft the galleyhatch, and to leave them both the possession of their guns forself-defense, in case"--he looked humorously around at theothers--"these inebriates get drunk again. " "But the other guns. He has them somewhere. We want power ofself-defense, too. " "Mr. Denman, " said Sampson, turning to the prisoner, "you've heard theconditions. Will you tell us where the arms are, and will you keep aftof the galley hatch, you and the lady?" "I will, " answered Denman, "on condition that you all, and particularlyyour navigator, keep forward of the galley hatch. " "We'll do that, sir; except, of course, in case of working or fightingship. Now, tell us where the guns are, and we'll release you. " "Haven't we something to say about this?" inquired Forsythe, while a fewothers grumbled their disapproval of the plan. "No; you have not, " answered Jenkins, his hoarse whisper becoming avoice. "Not a one of you. Sampson and I will be responsible for this. " "All right, then, " responded Forsythe. "But I'll carry my gun all thetime. I'm not going to be shot down without a white man's chance. " "You'll carry a gun, my son, " said Sampson, "when we give it to you--andthen it won't be to shoot Mr. Denman. It's on your account, remember, that we're giving him a gun. Now, Mr. Denman, where are the pistols andtoothpicks?" "The pistols are in my room, the cutlasses in the room opposite. Youhave the keys. " "Aft all hands, " ordered Jenkins, fumbling in his pockets for the keys, "and get the weapons. " Away they trooped, and crowded down the wardroom companion, Sampsonlifting his cap politely to the girl in the chair. In a short time theyreappeared, each man loaded down with pistols and cutlasses. Theyplaced them in the forecastle, and when they had come up Sampsonreleased Denman's bonds. "Now, sir, " he said, "you are free. We'll keep our promises, and weexpect you to keep yours. Here is your gun, Mr. Denman. " "Thank you, Sampson, " said Denman, pocketing the revolver and shakinghis aching hands to circulate the blood. "Of course, we are to keep ourpromises. " "Even though you see things done that will raise your hair, sir. " "What do you mean by that?" asked Denman, with sudden interest. "Can't tell you anything, sir, except what you may know, or will know. This boat is _not_ bound for the African coast. That's all, sir. " "Go below the watch, " broke in Jenkins' husky voice. "To stations, therest. " CHAPTER XIX "What happened, Billie?" asked Florrie as Denman joined her. "Not much, Florrie, " he replied, as cheerfully as was possible in hismood. "Only a physical and practical demonstration that I am the twoends and the bight of a fool. " "You are not a fool, Billie; but what happened? How did they get out?" "By picking the lock of the door, I suppose; or, perhaps, they had a keyinside. That's where the fool comes in. I should have nailed the door onthem. " "And what do they mean to do?" "Don't know. They have some new project in mind. But we're better offthan before, girl. We're at liberty to carry arms, and to go and come, provided we stay this side of the galley hatch. They are to let us aloneand stay forward of the hatch. By the way, " he added. "In view of therather indeterminate outlook, let's carry our hardware outside. " He removed his belt from his waist and buckled it outside his oilskincoat. Then, when he had transferred the pistol from his pocket to thescabbard, he assisted the girl. "There, " he said, as he stood back and looked at her, admiringly, "withall due regard for your good looks, Florrie, you resemble a crossbetween a cowboy and a second mate. " "No more so than you, " she retorted; "but I've lost my place as cook, Ithink. " She pointed at the galley chimney, from which smoke was arising. Denman looked, and also became interested in an excited conventionforward. Though Jenkins had sent the watch below and the rest to stations, onlythe two cooks had obeyed. The others, with the boat still rolling in theheavy sea, had surrounded Jenkins, and seemed to be arguing with him. The big man, saving his voice, answered only by signs as yet; but thevoices of the others soon became audible to the two aft. "I tell you it's all worked out, Jenkins--all figured out while you weredopy in your bunk. " Jenkins shook his head. Then followed an excited burst of reason and flow of words from whichDenman could only gather a few disjointed phrases: "Dead easy, Jenkins--Run close and land--Casey's brother--Can hoof it to--Might geta job, which'd be better--Got a private code made up--Don't needmoney--Can beat his way in--My brother has a wireless--Take the dinghy;we don't need it--I'll take the chance if you have a life-buoyhandy--Chance of a lifetime--Who wants beach combing in Africa--You see, he'll watch the financial news--I'll stow away in her--I tell you, Jenkins, there'll be no killing. I've made my mind up to that, and willsee to it. " The last speech was from Sampson; and, on hearing it, Jenkins waved themall away. Then he used his voice. "Get to stations, " he said. "I'll think it out. Forsythe, take thebridge and dope out where we are. " They scattered, and Forsythe mounted to the bridge, while Jenkins, stilla sick man, descended to the forecastle. "What does it all mean, Billie?" asked the girl. "Haven't the slightest idea, " answered Denman, as he seated himselfbeside her. "They've been hinting at big things; and Sampson said thatthey might raise my hair. However, we'll know soon. The wind is goingdown. This was the outer fringe of a cyclone. " "Why don't they go ahead?" "Too much sea. These boats are made for speed, not strength. You canbreak their backs by steaming into a head sea. " Daniels, the cook, came on deck and aft to the limits of the hatch, indicating by his face and manner that he wished to speak to Denman. Denman arose and approached him. "Will you and the lady eat breakfast together, sir?" he asked. "I believe so, " answered Denman. Then, turning to Florrie: "How will itbe? May I eat breakfast with you this morning?" She nodded. "Then, sir, " said Daniels, "I'll have to serve it in the after cabin. " "Why not the wardroom? Why not keep out of Miss Fleming's apartment?" "Because, Mr. Denman, our work is laid out. Billings attends to thewardroom, and swears he won't serve this lady, or get within reach ofher. " "Serve it in the after cabin, then, " said Denman, turning away to hidethe coming smile, and Daniels departed. * * * * * Not caring to agitate the girl with an account of Billings' drunkenovertures and his own vicarious repulse of them, he did not explain toher Billings' trouble of mind; but he found trouble of his own inexplaining his frequent bursts of laughter while they ate theirbreakfast in the cabin. And Florrie found trouble in accepting hisexplanations, for they were irrelevant, incompetent, and inane. After breakfast they went on deck without oilskins, for wind and seawere going down. There was a dry deck; and above, a sky which, stillgray with the background of storm cloud, yet showed an occasionalglimmer of blue, while to the east the sun shone clear and unobstructed;but on the whole clean-cut horizon there was not a sign of sail orsmoke. Eight bells having struck, the watches were changed; but except possiblya man in the engine room getting up steam--for smoke was pouring out ofthe four funnels--no one was at stations. The watch on deck wasscattered about forward; and Forsythe had given way to Jenkins, who, with his eye fixed to a long telescope, was scanning the horizon fromthe bridge. Denman, for over forty-eight hours without sleep, would have turned inhad not curiosity kept him awake. So he waited until nine o'clock, whenForsythe, with Munson's help, took morning sights, and later until ten, when Forsythe handed Jenkins a slip of paper on which presumably he hadjotted the boat's approximate position. Immediately Jenkins rang theengine bells, and the boat forged ahead. Denman watched her swing to a starboard wheel; and, when the rollinggave way to a pitching motion as she met the head sea, he glanced at theafter binnacle compass. "Northwest by north, half north, " he said. "Whatever their plan is, Jenkins has been won over. Florrie, better turn in. I'm going to. Lockyour door and keep that gun handy. " But they were not menaced--not even roused for dinner; for Daniels hadgone below, and Billings, on watch for the morning, could not wakeDenman, and would not approach Miss Florrie's door. So it was late inthe afternoon when they again appeared on deck. The weather had cleared, the sea was smoothing, and the boat surgingalong under the cruising turbines; while Hawkes had the wheel, andForsythe, still in officer's uniform, paced back and forth. Evidently Jenkins, in the light of his physical and mental limitations, had seen the need of an assistant. Old Kelly, the gunner's mate, wasfussing around a twelve-pounder; the rest were out of sight. Denman concluded that some kind of sea discipline had been establishedwhile he slept, and that Kelly had been put in charge of the gunnerydepartment and been relieved from standing watch; otherwise, by theformer arrangement, Kelly would have been below while Forsythe andHawkes were on deck. The horizon was dotted with specks, some showing smoke, others, underthe glass, showing canvas. Denman examined each by the captain'sbinoculars, but saw no signs of a government craft--all were peaceablygoing their way. "Why is it, " asked Florrie, as she took the glass from Denman, "that wesee so many vessels now, when we lay for days without seeing any?" "We were in a pocket, I suppose, " answered Denman. "Lane routes, traderoutes, for high and low-powered craft, as well as for sailing craft, are so well established these days that, if you get between them, youcan wait for weeks without seeing anything. " "Do you think there is any chance of our being rescued soon?" "I don't know, Florrie; though we can't go much nearer the coast withoutbeing recognized. In fact, I haven't thought much about it lately--thetruth is, I'm getting interested in these fellows. This is the mostdaring and desperate game I ever saw played, and how they'll come out isa puzzle. Hello! Eight bells. " The bell was struck on the bridge, and the watches changed, except thatJenkins, after a short talk with Forsythe, did not relieve him, but cameaft to the engine-room hatch, where he held another short talk withSampson and Riley, who, instead of going below, had waited. Only a few words came to Denman's ears, and these in the hoarse accentsof Jenkins as he left them: "Six days at cruising speed, you say, andtwo at full steam? All right. " Jenkins continued aft, but halted and called the retreating Sampson, whojoined him; then the two approached the galley hatch and hailed Denman. "Captain Jenkins can't talk very well, sir, " said Sampson, with aconciliatory grin; "but he wants me to ask you what you did to him. Hesays he bears no grudge. " "Can't tell you, " answered Denman, promptly. "It is a trick of Japanesejujutsu, not taught in the schools, and known only to experts. Ilearned it in Japan when my life was in danger. " Jenkins nodded, as though satisfied with the explanation, and Sampsonresumed: "Another thing we came aft for, Mr. Denman, is to notify you that wemust search the skipper's room and the wardroom for whatever money thereis on board. There may be none, but we want the last cent. " "What on earth, " exclaimed Denman, "do you want with money?" Then, astheir faces clouded, he added: "Oh, go ahead. Don't turn my roomupside-down. You'll find my pile in a suit of citizen's clothes hangingup. About four and a half. " "Four and a half is a whole lot, sir, " remarked Sampson as theydescended the wardroom hatch. "Got any money down below, Florrie?" inquired Denman, joining the girl. She shook her head. "No. I lost everything but what I wear. " The tears that started to her eyes apprised Denman that hers was morethan a money loss; but there is no comfort of mere words for such loss, and he went on quickly: "They are going through the cabin for money. They'll get all I've got. Did you see any cash in the captain's desk?" "Why, yes, Billie, " she said, hesitatingly. "I wanted a place to put mycombs when I wore the bandage, and I saw some money in the upper desk. It was a roll. " "He's lost it, then. Always was a careless man. Did you count it?" "No. I had no right to. " But the question in Denman's mind was answered by Sampson when he andJenkins emerged from the hatch. "Five hundred, " he said. "Fine! Hewon't need a quarter of it, Jenkins. " "Five hundred!" repeated Denman to the girl. "Jail-breaking, stealinggovernment property, mutiny--against me--piracy, and burglary. Heavenhelp them when they are caught!" "But will they be?" "Can't help but be caught. I know nothing of their plans; but I do knowthat they are running right into a hornet's nest. If a single one ofthose craft on the horizon recognizes this boat and can wireless thenearest station, we'll be surrounded to-morrow. " But, as it happened, they were not recognized, though they tookdesperate chances in charging through a coasting fleet in daylight. Andat nightfall Jenkins gave the order for full speed. CHAPTER XX For an hour Denman remained with Florrie to witness the unusualspectacle of a forty-knot destroyer in a hurry. The wind was practically gone, though a heavy ground swell still met theboat from the northwest; and as there was no moon, nor starlight, and asall lights were out but the white masthead and red and green sidelights, invisible from aft, but dimly lighting the sea ahead, the sightpresented was unusual and awe-inspiring. They seemed to be looking at an ever-receding wall of solid blackness, beneath which rose and spread from the high bow, to starboard and port, two huge, moving snowdrifts, lessening in size as the bow lifted overthe crest of a sea it had climbed, and increasing to a liquid avalancheof foam that sent spangles up into the bright illumination of themasthead light when the prow buried itself in the base of the next sea. Astern was a white, self-luminous wake that narrowed to a point in thedistance before it had lost its phosphorescent glow. Florrie was interested only in the glorious picture as a whole. Denman, equally impressed, was interested in the somewhat rare spectacle of acraft meeting at forty knots a sea running at twenty; for not a drop ofwater hit the deck where they stood. They went below at last; but Denman, having slept nearly all day, waslong in getting to sleep. A curious, futile, and inconsequential thoughtbothered him--the thought that the cheerful Billings had ceased hissinging in the galley. The monotonous humming of the turbines brought sleep at last; but heawakened at daylight from a dream in which Billings, dressed in a MotherHubbard and a poke bonnet, was trying to force a piece of salt-watersoap into his mouth, and had almost succeeded when he awoke. But it wasthe stopping of the turbines that really had wakened him; and he dressedhurriedly and went on deck. There was nothing amiss. No one was in sight but Jenkins, who leanedlazily against the bridge rail. In the dim light that shone, nothingcould be seen on the horizon or within it. So, a little ashamed of his uncalled-for curiosity, he hurried down andturned in, "all standing, " to wait for breakfast and an explanation. But no explanation was given him, either by events or the attitude ofthe men. Those on deck avoided the after end of the boat--all except oldKelly, whose duties brought him finally to the after guns and tubes;but, while civilly lifting his cap to Miss Florrie, he was grouchy andtaciturn in his manner until his work was done, then he halted at thegalley hatch on his way forward to lean over and pronounce anathema onthe heads of the cooks because of the quality of the food. While waiting for breakfast, Denman had listened to an angry and wordyargument between the two cooks, in which Daniels had voiced his opinionof Billings for waking him from his watch below to serve the prisoners. When the watches were changed at eight bells that morning, he had heardHawkes and Davis, the two seamen of the deck department, protestingviolently to Jenkins at the promotion of Forsythe and Kelly, which leftthem to do all the steering. Jenkins had not answered orally, but his gestures overruled the protest. Even Casey and Munson argued almost to quarreling over various "tricksof their trade, " which Denman, as he listened, could only surmise wereto form a part of the private code they had spoken of when haranguingJenkins. There was a nervous unrest pervading them all which, while leavingFlorrie and Denman intact, even reached the engine room. At noon Sampson and Dwyer were relieved, and the former turned back toshout down the hatch: "I told you to do it, and that goes. We've over-hauled and cleaned it. You two assemble and oil it up this afternoon, or you'll hear from me ateight bells. " The voice of Riley--who was nearly as large a man as Sampson--answeredhotly but inarticulately, and Denman could only ascribe the row to adifference of opinion concerning the condition of some part of theengines. Sampson, though possibly a lesser engineer than the others of hisdepartment, yet dominated them as Jenkins dominated them all--by pureforce of personality. He had made himself chief engineer, and hisorders were obeyed, as evidenced by the tranquil silence that emanatedfrom the engine room when Sampson returned at four in the afternoon. All day the boat lay with quiet engines and a bare head of steam, rolling slightly in a swell that now came from the east, while the sunshone brightly overhead from east to west, and only a few specksappeared on the horizon, to remain for a time, and vanish. Meanwhile Florrie worried Denman with questions that he could notanswer. "Forsythe took sights in the morning, " he explained at length, "and ameridian observation at noon. He has undoubtedly found another 'pocket, 'as I call these triangular spaces between the routes; but I do not knowwhere we are, except that, computing our yesterday and last night's run, we are within from sixty to a hundred miles of New York. " He was further mystified when, on going into his room for a cigar aftersupper, he found his suit of "citizen's clothes" missing from its hook. "Not the same thief, " he grumbled. "Sampson and Jenkins are too big forit. " He did not mention his loss to Florrie, not wishing to arouse furtherfeminine speculation; and when, at a later hour in this higher latitude, darkness had come, and full speed was rung to the engine room, heinduced her to retire. "I don't know what's up, " he said; "but--get all the sleep you can. I'llcall you if anything happens. " He did not go to sleep himself, but smoked and waited while the hummingturbines gathered in the miles--one hour, two hours, nearly three--untila quarter to eleven o'clock, when speed was reduced. Remembering his embarrassment of the morning, Denman did not seek thedeck, but looked through his deadlight. Nothing but darkness met hiseye; it was a black night with rain. He entered the lighted wardroom and looked at the telltale above; ittold him that the boat was heading due north. Then he entered anopposite room--all were unlocked now--from which, slantingly through thedeadlight, he saw lights. He threw open the thick, round window, and sawmore clearly. Lights, shore lights, ahead and to port. He saw no land; but from the perspective of the lights he judged thatthey ran east and west. Then he heard the call of the lead: "A quarterseventeen;" and a little later: "By the deep seventeen, " delivered in asing-song voice by Hawkes. "The coast of Long Island, " muttered Denman. "Well, for picked-up, school-book navigation, it is certainly a feat--to run over six hundredmiles and stop over soundings. " The boat went on at reduced speed until Hawkes had called out: "By themark ten, " when the engines stopped, and there was a rush of footstepson deck, that centered over the open deadlight, above which was slung tothe davits the boat called by them the dinghy, but which was only a verysmall gasoline launch. "In with you, Casey, " said Jenkins, in his low, hoarse voice, "and turnher over. See about the bottom plug, too. Clear away those guys fore andaft, you fellows. " In a few moments came the buzzing of the small engine; then it stopped, and Casey said: "Engine's all right, and--so is the plug. Shove out andlower away. " "Got everything right, Casey? Got your money? Got the code?" "Got everything, " was the impatient answer. "Well, remember--you're to head the boat out from the beach, pull thebottom plug, and let her sink in deep water. Make sure your wheel'samidships. " "Shove out and lower away, " retorted Casey. "D'you think I never learnedto run a naphtha launch?" Denman heard the creaking sound of the davits turning in their beds, then the slackening away of the falls, their unhooking by Casey, and thechugging of the engine as the launch drew away. "Good luck, Casey!" called Jenkins. "All right!" answered Casey from the distance. "Have your life-buoyshandy. " Denman had ducked out of sight as the launch was lowered, and he did notsee Casey; but, on opening a locker in his room for a fresh box ofcigars, he noticed that his laundry had been tampered with. Six shirtsand twice as many collars were gone. On looking further, he missed a newderby hat that he had prized more than usual, also his suitcase. "Casey and I are about the same size, " he muttered. "But what the deucedoes it all mean?" He went to sleep with the turbines humming full speed in his ears; buthe wakened when they were reduced to cruising speed. Looking at hiswatch in the light from the wardroom, he found that it was half-pasttwo; and, on stepping out for a look at the telltale, he found the boatheading due south. "Back in the pocket, " he said, as he returned to his room. But the engines did not stop, as he partly expected; they remained athalf speed, and the boat still headed south when he wakened atbreakfast-time. CHAPTER XXI After breakfast, King, one of the machinists, and a pleasant-faced youngman, came aft with an ensign, a hammer, chisel, and paint pot. "This is work, sir, " he said, as he passed, tipping his cap politely toMiss Florrie. "Should have been done before. " He went to the taffrail, and, leaning over with the hammer and chisel, removed the raised letters that spelled the boat's name. Then he coveredthe hiatus with paint, and hoisted the ensign to the flagstaff. "Now, sir, " he remarked, as he gathered up his tools and paint pot, "she's a government craft again. " "I see, " commented Denman; and then to Florrie as King went forward:"They're getting foxy. We're steaming into the crowd again, and theywant to forestall inspection and suspicion. I wonder if our beingallowed on deck is part of the plan? A lady and an officer aft looklegitimate. " At noon every man was dressed to the regulations, in clean blue, withneckerchief and knife lanyard, while Jenkins and Forsythe appeared infull undress uniform, with tasteful linen and neckwear. That this was part of the plan was proven when, after a display ofbunting in the International Signal Code from the yard up forward, theyranged alongside of an outbound tank steamer that had kindly slowed downfor them. All hands but one cook and one engineer had mustered on deck, showing a fair semblance of a full-powered watch; and the onecook--Billings--displayed himself above the hatch for one briefmoment, clad in a spotless white jacket. Then, just before the two bridges came together, Jenkins hurried downthe steps and aft to Denman to speak a few words, then hasten forward. It was sufficiently theatrical to impress the skipper of the tanker, butwhat Jenkins really said to Denman was: "You are to remember yourparole, sir, and not hail that steamer. " To which Denman had nodded assent. "Steamer ahoy!" shouted Forsythe, through a small megaphone. "You areladen with oil, as you said by signal. We would like to replenish oursupply, which is almost exhausted. " "Yes, sir, " answered the skipper; "but to whom shall I send the bill?" "To the superintendent of the Charlestown Navy Yard. It will very likelybe paid to your owners before you get back. We want as much as a hundredtons. I have made out a receipt for that amount. Throw us a heaving lineto take our hose, and I will send it up on the bight. " "Very well, sir. Anything else I can do for you, sir?" "Yes; we want about two hundred gallons of water. Been out a long time. " "Certainly, sir--very glad to accommodate you. Been after that runawaytorpedo boat?" "Yes; any news of her on shore? Our wireless is out of order. " "Well, the opinion is that she was lost in the big blow a few days ago. She was reported well to the nor'ard; and it was a St. Lawrence Valleystorm. Did you get any of it?" "Very little, " answered Forsythe. "We were well to the s'uth'ard. " "A slight stumble in good diction there, Mr. Forsythe, " muttered thelistening Denman. "Otherwise, very well carried out. " But the deluded tank skipper made no strictures on Forsythe's diction;and, while the pleasant conversation was going on, the two lines of hosewere passed, and the receipt for oil and water sent up to the steamer. In a short time the tanks were filled, the hose hauled back, and thestarting bells run in both engine rooms. The destroyer was first to gather way; and, as her stern drew abreast ofthe tanker's bridge, the skipper lifted his cap to Florrie and Denman, and called out: "Good afternoon, captain, I'm very glad that I was ableto accommodate you. " To which Denman, with all hands looking expectantly at him, only repliedwith a bow--as became a dignified commander with two well-trainedofficers on his bridge to attend to the work. The boat circled around, headed northwest, and went on at full speeduntil, not only the tanker, but every other craft in view, had sunkbeneath the horizon. Then the engines were stopped, and the signal yardsent down. "Back in the pocket again, " said Denman to Florrie. "What on earth canthey be driving at?" "And why, " she answered, with another query, "did they go to all thattrouble to be so polite and nice, when, as you say, they are fullycommitted to piracy, and robbed the other vessels by force?" "This seems to show, " he said, "the master hand of Jenkins, who is anatural-born gentleman, as against the work of Forsythe, who is anatural-born brute. " "Yet he is a high-school graduate. " "And Jenkins is a passed seaman apprentice. " "What is that?" "One who enters the navy at about fifteen or sixteen to serve until heis twenty-one, then to leave the navy or reënlist. They seldom reënlist, for they are trained, tutored, and disciplined into good workmen, towhom shore life offers better opportunities. Those who do reënlist haveraised the standard of the navy sailor to the highest in the world; butthose that don't are a sad loss to the navy. Jenkins reënlisted. So didForsythe. " "But do you think the training and tutoring that Jenkins received equalto an education like Forsythe's--or yours?" "They learn more facts, " answered Denman. "The training makes a man of abad boy, and a gentleman of a good one. What a ghastly pity that, because of conservatism and politics, all this splendid material forofficers should go to waste, and the appointments to Annapolis be givento good high-school scholars, who might be cowardly sissies at heart, orblackguards like Forsythe!" "But that is how you received your appointment, Billie Denman, " said thegirl, warmly; "and you are neither a sissy nor a blackguard. " "I hope not, " he answered, grimly. "Yet, if I had first served my timeas seaman apprentice before being appointed to Annapolis, I might be upon that bridge now, instead of standing supinely by while one seamanapprentice does the navigating and another the bossing. " "There is that man again. I'm afraid of him, Billie. All the others, except Forsythe, have been civil to me; but he looks at me--so--sohatefully. " Billings, minus his clean white jacket, had come up the hatch and goneforward. He came back soon, showing a sullen, scowling face, as thoughhis cheerful disposition had entirely left him. As he reached the galley hatch, he cast upon the girl a look of suchintense hatred and malevolence that Denman, white with anger, sprang tothe hatch, and halted him. "If ever again, " he said, explosively, "I catch you glaring at this ladyin that manner, parole or no parole, I'll throw you overboard. " Billings' face straightened; he saluted, and, without a word, went downthe hatch, while Denman returned to the girl. "He is an enlisted man, " he said, bitterly, "not a passed seamanapprentice; so I downed him easily with a few words. " And then came the thought, which he did not express to Florrie, that hisfancied limitations, which prevented him from being on the bridge, alsoprevented him from enlightening the morbid Billings as to the realsource of the "terrible punch" he had received; for, while he couldjustify his silence to Florrie, he could only, with regard to Billings, feel a masculine dread of ridicule at dressing in feminine clothing. CHAPTER XXII At supper that evening they were served with prunes, bread withoutbutter, and weak tea, with neither milk nor sugar. "Orders from for'a'd, sir, " said Daniels, noticing Denman's involuntarylook of surprise. "All hands are to be on short allowance for awhile--until something comes our way again. " "But why, " asked Denman, "do you men include us in your plans andeconomies? Why did you not rid yourself of us last night, when you sentone of your number ashore?" Daniels was a tall, somber-faced man--a typical ship's cook--and heanswered slowly: "I cannot tell you, sir. Except that both you and thelady might talk about this boat. " "Oh, well, " said Denman, "I was speaking for this lady, who doesn'tbelong with us. My place is right here. " "Yes, sir, " agreed Daniels; "but I am at liberty to say, sir, to you andthe lady, that you'd best look out for Billings. He seems to be goin'batty. I heard him talking to himself, threatening harm to this lady. Idon't know what he's got against her myself--" "Tell him, " said Denman, sharply, "that if he enters this apartment, orsteps one foot abaft the galley hatch on deck, the parole is broken, andI'll put a bullet through his head. You might tell that to Jenkins, too. " Daniels got through the wardroom door before answering: "I'll not dothat, sir. Jenkins might confine him, and leave all the work to me. ButI think Billings needs a licking. " Whether Daniels applied this treatment for the insane to Billings, orwhether Billings, with an equal right to adjudge Daniels insane, hadapplied the same treatment to him, could not be determined withoutviolation of the parole; but when they had finished supper and reachedthe deck, sounds of conflict came up from the galley hatch, unheard anduninterrupted by those forward. It was a series of thumps, oaths, growlings, and the rattling of pots and pans on the galley floor. Thenthere was silence. "You see, " said Denman to Florrie, with mock seriousness, "the balefulinfluence of a woman aboard ship! It never fails. " "I can't help it, " she said, with a pout and a blush--her blushes werediscernible now, for the last vestige of the scalding had gone--"but Imean to wear a veil from this on. I had one in my pocket. " "I think that would be wise, " answered Denman, gravely. "These menare--" "You see, Billie, " she interrupted. "I've got a new complexion--brandnew; peaches and cream for the first time in my life, and I'm going totake care of it. " "That's right, " he said, with a laugh. "But I'll wager you won't patentthe process. Live steam is rather severe as a beautifier!" But she kept her word. After the meager breakfast next morning--whichDaniels served with no explanation of the row--she appeared on deck withher face hidden, and from then on wore the veil. There was a new activity among the men--a partial relief from theall-pervading nervousness and irritability. Gun and torpedopractice--which brought to drill every man on board except Munson, buried in his wireless room, and one engineer on duty--was inauguratedand continued through the day. Their natty blue uniforms discarded, they toiled and perspired at thetask; and when, toward the end of the afternoon, old Kelly decided thatthey could be depended upon to fire a gun or eject a torpedo, Jenkinsdecreed that they should get on deck and lash to the rail in theirchocks four extra torpedoes. As there was one in each tube, this made eight of the deadliest weaponsof warfare ready at hand; and when the task was done they quit for theday, the deck force going to the bridge for a look around the emptyhorizon, the cooks to the galley, and the machinists to the engine room. Denman, who with doubt and misgiving had watched the day's preparations, led Florrie down the companion. "They're getting ready for a mix of some kind; and there must be someplace to put you away from gun fire. How's this?" He opened a small hatch covered by the loose after edge of the cabincarpet, and disclosed a compartment below which might have been designedfor stores, but which contained nothing, as a lighted electric bulbshowed him. Coming up, he threw a couple of blankets down, and said: "There's a cyclone cellar for you, Florrie, below the water line. Ifwe're fired upon jump down, and don't come up until called, or untilwater comes in. " Then he went to his room for the extra store of cartridges he hadsecreted, but found them gone. Angrily returning to Florrie, he askedfor her supply; and she, too, searched, and found nothing. But boththeir weapons were fully loaded. "Well, " he said, philosophically, as they returned to the deck, "theyonly guaranteed us the privilege of carrying arms. I suppose they feeljustified from their standpoint. " But on deck they found something to take their minds temporarily off theloss. Sampson, red in the face, was vociferating down the engine-roomhatch. "Come up here, " he said, loudly and defiantly. "Come up here and proveit, if you think you're a better man than I am. Come up and squareyourself, you flannel-mouthed mick. " The "flannel-mouthed mick, " in the person of Riley, white of face ratherthan red, but with eyes blazing and mouth set in an ugly grin, climbedup. It was a short fight--the blows delivered by Sampson, the parrying doneby Riley--and ended with a crashing swing on Riley's jaw that sent himto the deck, not to rise for a few moments. "Had enough?" asked Sampson, triumphantly. "Had enough, you imitation ofan ash cat? Oh, I guess you have. Think it out. " He turned and met Jenkins, who had run aft from the bridge. "Now, Sampson, this'll be enough of this. " "What have _you_ got to say about it?" inquired Sampson, irately. "Plenty to say, " answered Jenkins, calmly. "Not much, you haven't. You keep away from the engine room and theengine-room affairs. I can 'tend to my department. You 'tend to yours. " "I can attend to yours as well when the time comes. There's work aheadfor--" "Well, attend to me now. You've sweated me all day like a stoker at yourwork; now go on and finish it up. I'll take a fall out o' you, Jenkins, right here. " "No, you won't! Wait until the work's done, and I'll accommodate you. " Jenkins went forward; and Sampson, after a few moments of scarcelyaudible grumbling, followed to the forecastle. Then Riley got up, lookedafter him, and shook his fist. "I'll git even wi' you for this, " he declared, with lurid profanity. "I'll have yer life for this, Sampson. " Then he went down the hatch, while Forsythe on the bridge, who hadwatched the whole affair with an evil grin, turned away from Jenkinswhen the latter joined him. Perhaps he enjoyed the sight of some onebeside himself being knocked down. "It looks rather bad, Florrie, " said Denman, dubiously; "all thisquarreling among themselves. Whatever job they have on hand they musthold together, or we'll get the worst of it. I don't like to see Jenkinsand Sampson at it, though the two cooks are only a joke. " But there was no more open quarreling for the present. As the days woreon, a little gun and torpedo drill was carried out; while, with steamup, the boat made occasional darts to the north or south to avoid tooclose contact with passing craft, and gradually--by fits andstarts--crept more to the westward. And Jenkins recovered completecontrol of his voice and movements, while Munson, the wireless man, grew haggard and thin. At last, at nine o'clock one evening, just before Denman went down, Munson ran up with a sheet of paper, shouting to the bridge: "Caught on--with the United--night shift. " Then, having delivered the sheet to Jenkins, he went back, and therasping sound of his sending instrument kept up through the night. But when Denman sought the deck after breakfast, it had stopped; and hesaw Munson, still haggard of face, talking to Jenkins at the hatch. "Got his wave length now, " Denman heard him say. "Took all night, butthat and the code'll fool 'em all. " From then on Munson stood watch at his instrument only from six in theevening until midnight, got more sleep thereby, and soon the tired, haggard look left his face, and it resumed its normal expression ofintelligence and cheerfulness. CHAPTER XXIII After supper about a week later, Denman and Florrie sat in the deckchairs, watching the twilight give way to the gloom of the evening, andspeculating in a desultory manner on the end of this never-endingvoyage, when Munson again darted on deck, and ran up the bridge stairswith a sheet of paper, barely discernible in the gathering darkness, andhanded it to Jenkins, who peered over it in the glow from the binnacle. Then Jenkins blew on a boatswain's whistle--the shrill, trilling, andpenetrating call that rouses all hands in the morning, but is seldomgiven again throughout the day except in emergencies. All hands responded. Both cooks rushed up from the galley, the engineerson watch shut off all burners and appeared, and men tumbled up from theforecastle, all joining Jenkins and Munson on the bridge. Denman strained his ears, but could hear nothing, though he saw each manbending over the paper in turn. Then they quickly went back to their places below or on deck; and, asthe bells were given to the engine room, the rasping of the wirelesscould be heard. As the two cooks came aft, Denman heard them discussing excitedly butinaudibly the matter in hand; and, his curiosity getting the better ofhis pride, he waited only long enough to see the boat steadied ateast-northeast, then went down and forward to the door leading into thepassage that led to the galley. Billings was doing most of the talking, in a high-pitched, queruloustone, and Daniels answered only by grunts and low-pitched monosyllables. "_Gigantia_--ten to-morrow--five million, " were a few of the words andphrases Denman caught; and at last he heard the concluding words of thetalk. "Dry up, " said Daniels, loudly and threateningly. "Yes, thirteen is anunlucky number; but, if you don't shut up and clear off these dishes, I'll make our number twelve. Glad you've got something to think aboutbesides that woman, but--shut up. You make me tired. " Denman went back to Florrie somewhat worried, but no longer puzzled; yethe gave the girl none of his thoughts that evening--he waited untilmorning, when, after a look around a bright horizon dotted with sail andsteam, he said to her as she came up: "Eat all the breakfast you can this morning, Florrie, for it may be sometime before we'll eat again. " "Why, Billie, what is the matter?" asked the girl. "We've traveled at cruising speed all night, " he answered, "and now mustbe up close to the 'corner, ' as they call the position where theoutbound liners change to the great circle course. " "Well?" she said, inquiringly. "Did you ever hear of the _Gigantia_?" "Why, of course--you mean the new liner?" "Yes; the latest and largest steamship built. She was on her maidenpassage when this boat left port, and is about due to start east again. Florrie, she carries five million in bullion, and these fellows mean tohold her up. " "Goodness!" exclaimed the girl. "You mean that they will rob her--a bigsteamship?" "She's big enough, of course, to tuck this boat down a hatchway; butthese passenger boats carry no guns except for saluting, while this boatcould sink her with the armament she carries. Look at thosetorpedoes--eight altogether, and more below decks. Eight compartmentscould be flooded, and bulkheads are not reliable. But will they dare?Desperate though they are, will they dare fire on a ship full ofpassengers?" "How did you learn this, Billie? It seems impossible--incredible. " "Remember the gun and torpedo drill!" said Denman, softly, yetexcitedly. "Our being in these latitudes is significant. They put Caseyashore the other night and robbed the captain and me to outfit him. Ioverheard some of the talk. He has reached New York, secured a positionas night operator in a wireless station, studied the financial news, andsent word last night that the _Gigantia_ sails at ten this morning withfive million in gold. " "And where do you think she is now?" asked the girl, glancing around thehorizon. "At her dock in New York. She'll be out here late in the afternoon, Ithink. But, heavens, what chances!--to wait all day, while any craftthat comes along may recognize this boat and notify the nearest station!Why didn't they intercept the lane route out at sea, where there is nocrowd like this? I can only account for it by the shortage of stores. Yes; that's it. No sane pirate would take such risks. We've plenty ofoil and water, but little food. " That Denman had guessed rightly was partly indicated by the action ofthe men and the boat that day. All hands kept the deck, and their first task was to discard the nowuseless signal mast, which might help identify the boat as the runawaydestroyer. Two engineers sawed nearly through the mast at its base, while theothers cleared away the light shrouds and forestay. Then a few tugs onthe lee shroud sent it overboard, while the men dodged from under. Beyond smashing the bridge rail it did no damage. The dodging tactics were resumed. A steamer appearing on the east orwest horizon, heading so as to pass to the northward or southward, wasgiven a wider berth by a dash at full speed in the opposite direction. Every face--even Florrie's and Denman's--wore an anxious, nervousexpression, and the tension increased as the hours went by. Dinner was served, but brought no relief. Men spoke sharply to oneanother; and Jenkins roared his orders from the bridge, bringing aculmination to the strain that no one could have foreseen. The sudden appearance of an inbound steamer out of a haze that hadarisen to the east necessitated immediate full speed. Riley was incharge of the engine room, but Sampson stood at the hatch exercising anunofficial supervision; and it was he that received Jenkins' thunderingrequest for more steam. Sampson, in a voice equally loud, and with more profanity, admonishedJenkins to descend to the lower regions and attend to his own affairs. Jenkins yielded. Leaving Forsythe in charge of the bridge, he came downthe stairs and aft on the run. Not a word was spoken by either; but, with the prescience that men feel at the coming of a fight, the twocooks left their dishes and the engineers their engines to crowd theirheads into the hatches. Riley showed his disfigured face over the headsof the other two; and on the bridge Forsythe watched with the same evilgrin. But few blows were passed, then the giants locked, and, twisting andwrithing, whirled about the deck. Florrie screamed, but Denman silencedher. "Nothing can be done, " he said, "without violating the parole; and evenif--" He stopped, for the two huge forms, tightly embraced, had reeled likeone solid object to the rail, which, catching them at just above theknees, had sent them overboard, exactly as Sampson had gone before. "Man overboard!" yelled Denman, uselessly, for all had seen. But hethrew a life-buoy fastened to the quarter, and was about to throwanother, when he looked, and saw that his first was a hundred feet thisside of the struggling men. He turned to glance forward. Men were running about frantically, andshouting, but nothing was done, and the boat still held at a matter offorty knots an hour. Riley grinned from the hatch; and, forward on thebridge, Forsythe turned his now sober face away, to look at thecompass, and at the steamer fast disappearing in the haze that followedher. Then, more as an outlet for his anger and disgust than in the hope ofsaving life, Denman threw the second life-buoy high in air over thestern, and led the shocked and hysterical Florrie down the stairs. "Rest here a while, " he said, gently, "and try to forget it. I don'tknow what they'll do now, but--keep your pistol with you at all times. " He went up with a grave face and many heartfelt misgivings; for, withForsythe and Riley now the master spirits, things might not go well withthem. CHAPTER XXIV In about ten minutes Forsythe ground the wheel over and headed back;but, though Denman kept a sharp lookout, he saw nothing of the two menor the life-buoys. He could feel no hope for Sampson, who was unable toswim. As for Jenkins, possibly a swimmer, even should he reach alife-buoy, his plight would only be prolonged to a lingering death byhunger and thirst; for there was but one chance in a million that hewould be seen and picked up. After ten minutes on the back track, the boat was logically in about thesame position as when she had fled from the steamer; but Forsythe kepton for another ten minutes, when, the haze having enveloped the wholehorizon, he stopped the engines, and the boat lost way, rollingsluggishly in the trough. There was no wind, and nothing but the long ground swell and the haze toinconvenience them; the first in making it difficult to sight atelescope, the second in hiding everything on the horizon, though hidingthe boat herself. But at last Forsythe fixed something in the glass, gazing long andintently at a faint spot appearing to the northwest; and Denman, following suit with the binoculars, saw what he was looking at--a hugebulk coming out of the haze carrying one short mast and five funnels. Then he remembered the descriptions he had read of the mighty_Gigantia_--the only ship afloat with five funnels since the _GreatEastern_. Forsythe called, and all hands flocked to the bridge, where theydiscussed the situation; and, as Denman judged by the many faces turnedhis way, discussed him and Florrie. But whatever resulted from thelatter came to nothing. They suddenly left the bridge, to disappear in the forecastle for a fewmoments, then to reappear--each man belted and pistoled, and onebringing an outfit to Forsythe on the bridge. Two engineers went to the engines, Forsythe rang full speed to them, andthe rest, cooks and all, swung the four torpedo tubes to port and mannedthe forward one. The big ship seemed to grow in size visibly as her speed, plus thedestroyer's, brought them together. In a few moments Denman made outdetails--six parallel lines of deadlights, one above the other, andextending from bow to stern, a length of a thousand feet; three tiers ofdeck houses, one above the other amidships; a line of twenty boats to aside along the upper deck, and her after rails black with passengers;while as many as six uniformed officers stood on her bridge--eighty feetabove the water line. The little destroyer rounded to alongside, and slowed down to a littlemore than the speed of the larger ship, which permitted her to creepalong the huge, black side, inch by inch, until the bridges were nearlyabreast. Then a white-whiskered man on the high bridge hailed: "Steamer ahoy! What do you want?" "Want all that bullion stowed in your strong room, " answered Forsythethrough a megaphone; "and, if you please, speak more distinctly, for thewash of your bow wave prevents my hearing what you say. " The officer was handed a megaphone, and through it his voice came downlike a thunderclap. "You want the bullion stowed in our strong room, do you? Anything elseyou want, sir?" "Yes, " answered Forsythe. "We want a boat full of provisions. Threebarrels of flour, the rest in canned meats and vegetables. " "Anything else?" There was as much derision in the voice as can carrythrough a megaphone. "That is all, " answered Forsythe. "Load your gold into one of your ownboats, the provisions in another. Lower them down and let the fallsunreeve, so that they will go adrift. We will pick them up. " "Well, of all the infernal impudence I ever heard, yours is the worst. Ijudge that you are that crew of jail-breakers we've heard of that stolea government boat and turned pirates. " "You are right, " answered Forsythe; "but don't waste our time. Will yougive us what we asked for, or shall we sink you?" "Sink us, you scoundrel? You can't, and you'd better not try, orthreaten to. Your position is known, and three scouts started thismorning from Boston and New York. " "That bluff don't go, " answered Forsythe. "Will you cough up?" "No; most decidedly _no_!" roared the officer, who might, or might not, have been the captain. "Kelly, " said Forsythe, "send that Whitehead straight into him. " Whitehead torpedoes, be it known, are mechanical fish of machined steel, self-propelling and self-steering, actuated by a small air engine, andcarrying in their "war heads" a charge of over two hundred pounds ofguncotton, and in their blunt noses a detonating cap to explode it oncontact. At Forsythe's word, Kelly turned a lever on the tube, and the containedtorpedo dived gently overboard. Denman, looking closely, saw it appear once on the surface, porpoiselike, before it dived to its indicated depth. "The inhuman devil!" he commented, with gritting teeth. A muffled report came from the depths. A huge mound of water lifted up, to break into shattered fragments and bubbles. Then these bubbles burst, giving vent to clouds of brown and yellow smoke; while up through theventilators and out through the opened lower deadlights came more ofthis smoke, and the sound of human voices, screaming and groaning. Thesesounds were drowned in the buzzing of thousands of other voices on deckas men, women, and children fought their way toward the stern. "Do you agree?" yelled Forsythe, through the megaphone. "Do you agree, or shall we unload every torpedo we've got into your hull?" Old Kelly had calmly marshaled the crew to the next torpedo, and lookedup to Forsythe for the word. But it did not come. Instead, over the buzzing of the voices, came the officer's answer, loudand distinct: "We agree. We understand that your necks are in the halter, and that youhave nothing to lose, even though you should fill every compartment anddrown every soul on board this ship. So we will accede to your demands. We will fill one boat with the bullion and another with provisions, andcast them adrift. But do not fire again, for God's sake!" "All right, " answered Forsythe. "Bear a hand. " Breast to breast, the two craft charged along, while two boats werelowered to the level of the main deck, and swiftered in to the rail. Sailors appeared from the doors in pairs, each carrying a box that taxedtheir strength and made them stagger. There were ten in all, and theyslowly and carefully ranged them along the bottom of one of the boats, so as to distribute their weight. While this was going on, stewards and galley helpers were filling theother boat with provisions--in boxes, barrels, and packages. Then theword was given, and the boats were cast off and lowered, the tackles ofthe heavier groaning mightily under the strain. When they struck the water, the falls were instantly let go; and, as theboats drifted astern, the tackles unrove their long length from theblocks, and were hauled on board again. Forsythe stopped the engines, and then backed toward the drifting boats. As the destroyer passed the stern of the giant steamer, a shout rangout; but only Denman heard it above the buzzing of voices. And it seemedthat only he saw Casey spring from the high rail of the mammoth into thesea; for the rest were busy grappling for the boat's painters, andForsythe was looking aft. When the painters were secured and the boats drawn alongside, Forsytherang for half speed; and the boat, under a port wheel, swung away fromthe _Gigantia_, and went ahead. "There is your man Casey, " yelled Denman, excitedly. "Are you going toleave him?" Forsythe, now looking dead ahead, seemed not to hear; but Riley spokefrom the hatch: "Hold yer jaw back there, or ye'll get a passage, too. " With Casey's cries in his ears--sick at heart in the belief that noteven a life-buoy would avail, for the giant steamship had not stoppedher engines throughout the whole transaction, and was now half a mileaway, Denman went down to Florrie, obediently waiting, yet nervous andfrightened. He told her nothing of what had occurred--but soothed and quieted herwith the assurance that they would be rescued soon. CHAPTER XXV The engine stopped; and, climbing the steps to look forward, Denman sawthe bridge deserted, and the whole ten surrounding an equal number ofstrong boxes, stamped and burned with official-looking letters andnumbers. Farther along were the provision; and a peep astern showedDenman the drifting boats. The big _Gigantia_ had disappeared in the haze that hid the wholehorizon; but up in the western sky was a portent--a black silhouette ofirregular out-line, that grew larger as he looked. It was a monoplane--an advance scout of a scout boat--and Denmanrecognized the government model. It seemed to have sighted thedestroyer, for it came straight on with a rush, circled overhead, andturned back. There was no signal made; and, as it dwindled away in the west, Denman'sattention was attracted to the men surrounding the boxes; only Munsonwas still watching the receding monoplane. But the rest were busy. Withhammers and cold chisels from the engine room they were opening theboxes of treasure. "Did any one see that fellow before?" demanded Munson, pointing to thespot in the sky. A few looked, and the others answered with oaths and commands: "Forgetit! Open the boxes! Let's have a look at the stuff!" But Munson spoke again. "Forsythe, how about the big fellow's wireless?We didn't disable it. He has sent the news already. What do you think?" "Oh, shut up!" answered Forsythe, irately. "I didn't think of it. Neither did any one. What of it? Nothing afloat can catch us. Open thebox. Let's have a look, and we'll beat it for Africa. " "I tell you, " vociferated Munson, "that you'd better start now--at fullspeed, too. That's a scout, and the mother boat isn't far away. " "Will you shut up, or will I shut you up?" shouted Forsythe. "You'll not shut me up, " retorted Munson. "You're the biggest fool inthis bunch, in spite of your bluff. Why don't you go ahead and get outo' this neighborhood?" A box cover yielded at this juncture, and Forsythe did not immediatelyanswer. Instead, with Munson himself, and Billings the cook--insanelyemitting whoops and yelps as he danced around for a peep--he joined theothers in tearing out excelsior from the box. Then the bare contentscame to view. "Lead!" howled Riley, as he stood erect, heaving a few men back with hisshoulders. "Lead it is, if I know wan metal from another. " "Open them all, " roared Forsythe. "Get the axes--pinch bars--anything. " "Start your engine!" yelled Munson; but he was not listened to. With every implement that they could lay their hands on they attackedthe remaining boxes; and, as each in turn disclosed its contents, therewent up howls of disappointment and rage. "Lead!" they shouted at last. "All lead! Was this job put up for us?" "No, " yelled Munson, "not for us. Every steamer carrying bullion alsocarries lead in the same kind of boxes. I've read of it many a time. It's a safeguard against piracy. We've been fooled--that's all. " Forsythe answered profanely and as coherently as his rage and excitementwould permit. Munson replied by holding his fist under Forsythe's nose. "Get up on the bridge, " he said. "And you, Riley, to your engines. " Riley obeyed the call of the exigency; but Forsythe resisted. He struckMunson's fist away, but received it immediately full in the face. Staggering back, he pulled his revolver; and, before Munson could meetthis new antagonism, he aimed and fired. Munson lurched headlong, andlay still. Then an uproar began. The others charged on Forsythe, who retreated, with his weapon at arm's length. He held them off until, at his command, all but one had placed his pistol back in the scabbard. The dilatory onewas old Kelly; and him Forsythe shot through the heart. Then the pistolswere redrawn, and the shooting became general. How Forsythe, single-handed against the eight remaining men, won in thatgun fight can only be explained by the fact that the eight were toowildly excited to aim, or leave each other free to attempt aiming; whileForsythe, a single target, only needed to shoot at the compact body ofmen to make a hit. It ended soon with Hawkes, Davis, and Daniels writhing on the deck, andForsythe hiding, uninjured, behind the forward funnel; while Riley, King, and Dwyer, the three engineers, were retreating into their engineroom. "Now, if you've had enough, " shouted Forsythe, "start the engine when Igive you the bells. " Then he mounted to the bridge and took the wheel. But, though the starting of the engines at full speed indicated that theengineers had had enough, there was one man left who had not. It wasBillings, who danced around the dead and the wounded, shrieking andlaughing with the emotions of his disordered brain. But he did not fireon Forsythe, and seemed to have forgotten the animus of the recentfriction. He drifted aft, muttering to himself, until suddenly he stopped, andfixed his eyes on Denman, who, with gritting teeth, had watched thedeadly fracas at the companion. "I told you so. I told you so, " rang out the crazed voice of Billings. "A woman aboard ship--a woman aboard ship. Always makes trouble. There, take it!" He pulled his revolver and fired; and Denman, stupefied with theunexpected horror of it all, did not know that Florrie had crept upbeside him in the companion until he heard her scream in conjunctionwith the whiz of the bullet through her hair. Then Denman awoke. After assuring himself of the girl's safety, and pushing her down thecompanion, he drew his revolver; and, taking careful aim, executedBillings with the cold calmness of a hangman. A bullet, nearly coincident with the report of a pistol, came from thebridge; and there was Forsythe, with one hand on the wheel, facing aftand taking second aim at him. Denman accepted the challenge, and stepped boldly out of the companion. They emptied their revolvers, but neither did damage; and, as Forsythereloaded, Denman cast a momentary glance at a black spot in the southernsky. Hurriedly sweeping the upper horizon, he saw still another to the east;while out of the haze in the northwest was emerging a scout cruiser; nodoubt the "mother" of the first monoplane. She was but two miles away, and soon began spitting shot and shell, which plowed up the waterperilously near. "You're caught, Forsythe, " called out Denman, pointing to the south andeast. "Will you surrender before we're sunk or killed?" Forsythe's answer was another shot. "Florrie, " called Denman down the companion, "hand me your gun and passup the tablecloth; then get down that hatch out of the way. We're beingfired at. " She obeyed him; and, with Forsythe's bullets whistling around his head, he hoisted the flag of truce and surrender to the flagstaff. But just amoment too late. A shell entered the boat amidships and exploded in hervitals, sending up through the engine-room hatch a cloud of smoke andwhite steam, while fragments of the shell punctured the deck from below. But there were no cries of pain or calls for help from the three men inthe engine room. Forsythe left the bridge. Breathing vengeance and raging like a madman, he rushed aft. "I'll see you go first!" he shrieked. He fired again and again as hecame; then, realizing that he had but one bullet left in his pistol, hehalted at the galley hatch, took careful aim, and pulled the trigger forthe last time. There are tricks of the fighting trade taught to naval officers that arenot included in the curriculum at Annapolis. Denman, his loaded revolverhanging in his right hand at his side, had waited for this final shot. Like a duelist he watched, not his opponent's hand, but his eye; and, the moment that eye gave him the unconcealable signal to the triggerfinger, he ducked his head, and the bullet sped above. "Now, Forsythe, " he said, as he covered the chagrined marksman, "youshould have aimed lower and to the right--but that's all past now. Thisboat is practically captured, and I'm not going to kill you; for, eventhough it would not be murder, there is no excuse in my conscience forit. Whether the boat sinks or not, we will be taken off in time, forthat fellow over yonder is coming, and has ceased firing. But before youare out of my hands I want to settle an old score with you--one datingfrom our boyhood, which you'll perhaps remember. Toss that gun forwardand step aft a bit. " Forsythe, his face working convulsively, obeyed him. "Florrie!" called Denman down the hatch. "Come up now. We're all right. " She came, white in the face, and stood beside him. "Off with your coat, Forsythe, and stand up to me. We'll finish that oldfight. Here, girl, hold this gun. " Florrie took the pistol, and the two men discarded their jackets andfaced each other. There is hardly need of describing in detail the fist fight thatfollowed. It was like all such, where one man is slightly the superiorof the other in skill, strength, and agility. In this case that one was Denman; and, though again and again he feltthe weight of Forsythe's fist, and reeled to the deck occasionally, hegradually tired out his heavier, though weaker, adversary; and at last, with the whole weight of his body behind it, dealt a crashing blow onForsythe's chin. Denman's old-time foe staggered backward and fell face upward. He rolledhis head to the right and to the left a few times, then sank intounconsciousness. Denman looked down on him, waiting for a movement, but none came. Forsythe had been knocked out, and for the last time. Florrie's screamaroused Denman. "Is the boat sinking, Billie?" He looked, and sprang for a life-buoy, which he slipped over Florrie'shead. The bow of the boat was flush with the water, which was lapping atthe now quiet bodies of the dead and wounded men forward. He securedanother life-buoy for himself; and, as he donned the cork ring, a hailcame from abeam. "Jump!" it said. "Jump, or you'll be carried down with the wash. " The big scout ship was but a few lengths away, and a boat full of armedmen was approaching. Hand in hand they leaped into the sea; and Denman, towing the girl bythe becket of her life-buoy, paid no attention to the sinking hull untilsatisfied that they were safe from the suction. When he looked, the bow was under water, the stern rising in the air, higher and higher, until a third of the after body was exposed; then itslid silently, but for the bursting of huge air bubbles, out of sight inthe depths. * * * * * About a year later, Lieutenant Denman received a letter with a Parispostmark, which he opened in the presence of his wife. In it was a drafton a Boston bank, made out to his order. "Good!" he exclaimed, as he glanced down the letter. "Listen, Florrie, here's something that pleases me as much as my exoneration by the Boardof Inquiry. " Then he read to her the letter: "DEAR SIR: Inasmuch as you threw two life-buoys over for us you may be glad, even at this late period, to know that we got them. The fight stopped when we hit the water, and since then Sampson and myself have been chums. I saw both buoys thrown and held Sampson up while I swam with him to the first; then, from the top of a sea, I saw the other, and, getting it, returned to him. We were picked up by a fisherman next day, but you will not mind, sir, if I do not tell you where we landed, or how we got here, or where we'll be when this letter reaches you. We will not be here, and never again in the United States. Yet we want to thank you for giving us a chance for our lives. "We read in the Paris _Herald_ of your hearing before the Board of Inquiry, and the story you told of the mess Forsythe made of things, and the final sinking of the boat. Of course we were sorry for them, for they were our mates; but they ought not to have gone back on Casey, even though they saw fit to leave Sampson and me behind. And, thinking this way, we are glad that you licked Forsythe, even at the last minute. "We inclose a draft for five hundred and fifty dollars, which we would like you to cash, and pay the captain, whose name we do not know, the money we took from his desk. We hope that what is left will square up for the clothes and money we took from your room. You see, as we did not give Casey but a little of the money, and it came in mighty handy for us two when we got ashore, it seems that we are obligated to return it. I will only say, to conclude, that we got it honestly. "Sampson joins with me in our best respects to Miss Fleming and yourself. "Truly yours, "HERBERT JENKINS. " "Oh, I'm glad, Billie!" she exclaimed. "They are honest men, after all. " "Honest men?" repeated Denman, quizzically. "Yet they stole a finedestroyer from Uncle Sam!" "I don't care, " she said, stoutly. "I'm glad they were saved. And, Billie boy"--her hands were on his shoulders--"if they hadn't stolenthat fine destroyer, I wouldn't be here to-day looking into your eyes. " And Billie, gathering her into his arms, let it go at that. BEYOND THE SPECTRUM The long-expected crisis was at hand, and the country was on the vergeof war. Jingoism was rampant. Japanese laborers were mobbed on thewestern slope, Japanese students were hazed out of colleges, andJapanese children stoned away from playgrounds. Editorial pages sizzledwith burning words of patriotism; pulpits thundered with invocations tothe God of battles and prayers for the perishing of the way of theungodly. Schoolboy companies were formed and paraded with wooden guns;amateur drum-corps beat time to the throbbing of the public pulse;militia regiments, battalions, and separate companies of infantry andartillery, drilled, practiced, and paraded; while the regular army wasrushed to the posts and garrisons of the Pacific Coast, and the navy, inthree divisions, guarded the Hawaiian Islands, the Philippines, and thelarger ports of western America. For Japan had a million trained men, with transports to carry them, battle-ships to guard them; with thechoice of objective when she was ready to strike; and she was displayinga national secrecy about her choice especially irritating to molders ofpublic opinion and lovers of fair play. War was not yet declared byeither side, though the Japanese minister at Washington had quietlysailed for Europe on private business, and the American minister atTokio, with several consuls and clerks scattered around the ports ofJapan, had left their jobs hurriedly, for reasons connected with theirgeneral health. This was the situation when the cabled news from Manilatold of the staggering into port of the scout cruiser _Salem_ with asteward in command, a stoker at the wheel, the engines in charge offiremen, and the captain, watch-officers, engineers, seamen gunners, andthe whole fighting force of the ship stricken with a form of partialblindness which in some cases promised to become total. The cruiser was temporarily out of commission and her stricken men inthe hospital; but by the time the specialists had diagnosed the troubleas amblyopia, from some sudden shock to the optic nerve--followed incases by complete atrophy, resulting in amaurosis--another ship cameinto Honolulu in the same predicament. Like the other craft fourthousand miles away, her deck force had been stricken suddenly and atnight. Still another, a battle-ship, followed into Honolulu, with fullyfive hundred more or less blind men groping around her decks; and theadmiral on the station called in all the outriders by wireless. Theycame as they could, some hitting sand-bars or shoals on the way, andevery one crippled and helpless to fight. The diagnosis was thesame--amblyopia, atrophy of the nerve, and incipient amaurosis; which inplain language meant dimness of vision increasing to blindness. Then came more news from Manila. Ship after ship came in, or was towedin, with fighting force sightless, and the work being done by the "blackgang" or the idlers, and each with the same report--the gradual dimmingof lights and outlines as the night went on, resulting in partial ortotal blindness by sunrise. And now it was remarked that those whoescaped were the lower-deck workers, those whose duties kept them offthe upper deck and away from gunports and deadlights. It was alsosuggested that the cause was some deadly attribute of the night air inthese tropical regions, to which the Americans succumbed; for, so far, the coast division had escaped. In spite of the efforts of the Government, the Associated Press got thefacts, and the newspapers of the country changed the burden of theirpronouncements. Bombastic utterances gave way to bitter criticism of aninefficient naval policy that left the ships short of fighters in acrisis. The merging of the line and the staff, which had excited muchridicule when inaugurated, now received more intelligent attention. Former critics of the change not only condoned it, but even demanded thewholesale granting of commissions to skippers and mates of the merchantservice; and insisted that surgeons, engineers, paymasters, andchaplains, provided they could still see to box the compass, should begiven command of the torpedo craft and smaller scouts. All of which madeyoung Surgeon Metcalf, on waiting orders at San Francisco, smile sweetlyand darkly to himself: for his last appointment had been the command ofa hospital ship, in which position, though a seaman, navigator, andgraduate of Annapolis, he had been made the subject of newspaperridicule and official controversy, and had even been caricatured asgoing into battle in a ship armored with court-plaster and armed withhypodermic syringes. Metcalf had resigned as ensign to take up the study and practice ofmedicine, but at the beginning of the war scare had returned to hisfirst love, relinquishing a lucrative practice as eye-specialist totender his services to the Government. And the Government had respondedby ranking him with his class as junior lieutenant, and giving him theaforesaid command, which he was glad to be released from. But hisclassmates and brother officers had not responded so promptly withtheir welcome, and Metcalf found himself combating a naval etiquettethat was nearly as intolerant of him as of other appointees from civillife. It embittered him a little, but he pulled through; for he was alikable young fellow, with a cheery face and pleasant voice, and eventhe most hide-bound product of Annapolis could not long resist hispersonality. So he was not entirely barred out of official gossip andspeculations, and soon had an opportunity to question some convalescentssent home from Honolulu. All told the same story and described the samesymptoms, but one added an extra one. An itching and burning of the facehad accompanied the attack, such as is produced by sunburn. "And where were you that night when it came?" asked Metcalf, eagerly. "On the bridge with the captain and watch-officers. It was all handsthat night. We had made out a curious light to the north'ard, and weretrying to find out what it was. " "What kind of a light?" "Well, it was rather faint, and seemed to be about a mile away. Sometimes it looked red, then green, or yellow, or blue. " "And then it disappeared?" "Yes, and though we steamed toward it with all the searchlights at work, we never found where it came from. " "What form did it take--a beam or a glow?" "It wasn't a glow--radiation--and it didn't seem to be a beam. It was anoccasional flash, and in this sense was like a radiation--that is, likethe spokes of a wheel, each spoke with its own color. But that was atthe beginning. In three hours none of us could have distinguishedcolors. " Metcalf soon had an opportunity to question others. The first batch ofinvalid officers arrived from Manila, and these, on being pressed, admitted that they had seen colored lights at the beginning of thenight. These, Metcalf remarked, were watch-officers, whose business wasto look for strange lights and investigate them. But one of them addedthis factor to the problem. "And it was curious about Brainard, the most useless and utterlyincompetent man ever graduated. He was so near-sighted that he couldn'tsee the end of his nose without glasses; but it was he that took theship in, with the rest of us eating with our fingers and asking our wayto the sick-bay. " "And Brainard wore his glasses that night?'" asked Metcalf. "Yes; he couldn't see without them. It reminds me of Nydia, the blindgirl who piloted a bunch out of Pompeii because she was used to thedarkness. Still, Brainard is hardly a parallel. " "Were his glasses the ordinary kind, or pebbles?" "Don't know. Which are the cheapest? That's the kind. " "The ordinary kind. " "Well, he had the ordinary kind--like himself. And he'll get specialpromotion. Oh, Lord! He'll be jumped up a dozen numbers. " "Well, " said Metcalf, mysteriously, "perhaps not. Just wait. " Metcalf kept his counsel, and in two weeks there came Japan'sdeclaration of war in a short curt note to the Powers at Washington. Next day the papers burned with news, cabled _via_ St. Petersburg andLondon, of the sailing of the Japanese fleet from its home station, butfor where was not given--in all probability either the Philippines orthe Hawaiian Islands. But when, next day, a torpedo-boat came into SanFrancisco in command of the cook, with his mess-boy at the wheel, conservatism went to the dogs, and bounties were offered for enlistmentat the various navy-yards, while commissions were made out as fast asthey could be signed, and given to any applicant who could even pretendto a knowledge of yachts. And Surgeon George Metcalf, with the rank ofjunior lieutenant, was ordered to the torpedo-boat above mentioned, andwith him as executive officer a young graduate of the academy, EnsignSmith, who with the enthusiasm and courage of youth combined themediocrity of inexperience and the full share of the service prejudiceagainst civilians. This prejudice remained in full force, unmodified by the desperatesituation of the country; and the unstricken young officers fillingsubordinate positions on the big craft, while congratulating him, openlydenied his moral right to a command that others had earned a betterright to by remaining in the service; and the old jokes, jibes, andsatirical references to syringes and sticking-plaster whirled about hishead as he went to and fro, fitting out his boat and laying in supplies. And when they learned--from young Mr. Smith--that among these supplieswas a large assortment of plain-glass spectacles, of no magnifying powerwhatever, the ridicule was unanimous and heartfelt; even the newspaperstaking up the case from the old standpoint and admitting that the lineought to be drawn at lunatics and foolish people. But Lieutenant Metcalfsmiled and went quietly ahead, asking for and receiving orders to scout. He received them the more readily, as all the scouts in the squadron, including the torpedo-flotilla and two battle-ships, had come in withblinded crews. Their stories were the same--they had all seen themysterious colored lights, had gone blind, and a few had felt theitching and tingling of sunburn. And the admiral gleaned one crew ofwhole men from the fleet, and with it manned his best ship, the_Delaware_. Metcalf went to sea, and was no sooner outside the Golden Gate than heopened his case of spectacles, and scandalized all hands, even hisexecutive officer, by stern and explicit orders to wear them night andday, putting on a pair himself as an example. A few of the men attested good eyesight; but this made no difference, heexplained. They were to wear them or take the consequences, and as thefirst man to take the consequences was Mr. Smith, whom he sent to hisroom for twenty-four hours for appearing on deck without them fiveminutes afterward, the men concluded that he was in earnest and obeyedthe order, though with smiles and silent ridicule. Another explicitcommand they received more readily: to watch out for curious-lookingcraft, and for small objects such as floating casks, capsized tubs orboats, et cetera. And this brought results the day after the penitentSmith was released. They sighted a craft without spars steaming along onthe horizon and ran down to her. She was a sealer, the skipperexplained, when hailed, homeward bound under the auxiliary. She had beenon fire, but the cause of the fire was a mystery. A few days before astrange-looking vessel had passed them, a mile away. She was a whalebacksort of a hull, with sloping ends, without spars or funnels, only a slimpole amidships, and near its base a projection that looked like aliner's crow's-nest. While they watched, their foremast burst intoflames, and while they were rigging their hose the mainmast caught fire. Before this latter was well under way they noticed a round hole burntdeeply into the mast, of about four inches diameter. Next, the topsidescaught fire, and they had barely saved their craft, letting their mastsburn to do so. "Was it a bright, sunshiny day?" asked Metcalf. "Sure. Four days ago. He was heading about sou'west, and going slow. " "Anything happen to your eyesight?" "Say--yes. One of my men's gone stone blind. Thinks he must have lookedsquarely at the sun when he thought he was looking at the fire upaloft. " "It wasn't the sun. Keep him in utter darkness for a week at least. He'll get well. What was your position when you met that fellow?" "About six hundred miles due nor'west from here. " "All right. Look out for Japanese craft. War is declared. " Metcalf plotted a new course, designed to intercept that of themysterious craft, and went on, so elated by the news he had heard thathe took his gossipy young executive into his confidence. "Mr. Smith, " he said, "that sealer described one of the new seagoingsubmersibles of the Japanese, did he not?" "Yes, sir, I think he did--a larger submarine, without any conning-towerand the old-fashioned periscope. They have seven thousand miles'cruising radius, enough to cross the Pacific. " By asking questions of various craft, and by diligent use of atelescope, Metcalf found his quarry three days later--a log-like objecton the horizon, with the slim white pole amidships and the excrescencenear its base. "Wait till I get his bearing by compass, " said Metcalf to his chiefofficer, "then we'll smoke up our specs and run down on him. Signal himby the International Code to put out his light, and to heave to, orwe'll sink him. " Mr. Smith bowed to his superior, found the numbers of these commands inthe code book, and with a string of small flags at the signal-yard, andevery man aboard viewing the world darkly through a smoky film, thetorpedo-boat approached the stranger at thirty knots. But there was noblinding glare of light in their eyes, and when they were within ahundred yards of the submersible, Metcalf removed his glasses for amoment's distinct vision. Head and shoulders out of a hatch near thetube was a man waving a white handkerchief. He rang the stopping bells. "He surrenders, Mr. Smith, " he said, joyously, "and without firing atorpedo!" He examined the man through the telescope and laughed. "I know him, " he said. Then funneling his hands, he hailed: "Do you surrender to the United States of America?" "I surrender, " answered the man. "I am helpless. " "Then come aboard without arms. I'll send a boat. " A small dinghy-like boat was dispatched, and it returned with the man, aJapanese in lieutenant's uniform, whose beady eyes twinkled in alarm asMetcalf greeted him. "Well, Saiksi, you perfected it, didn't you?--my invisible searchlight, that I hadn't money to go on with. " The Jap's eyes sought the deck, then resumed their Asiatic steadiness. "Metcalf--this you, " he said, "in command? I investigated and heard youhad resigned to become a doctor. " "But I came back to the service, Saiksi. Thanks to you and yourlight--my light, rather--I am in command here in place of men youblinded. Saiksi, you deserve no consideration from me, in spite of ourrooming together at Annapolis. You took--I don't say stole--myinvention, and turned it against the country that educated you. You, oryour _confrères_, did this before a declaration of war. You are apirate, and I could string you up to my signal-yard and escapecriticism. " "I was under orders from my superiors, Captain Metcalf. " "They shall answer to mine. You shall answer to me. How many boats haveyou equipped with my light?" "There are but three. It is very expensive. " "One for our Philippine squadron, one for the Hawaiian, and one for thecoast. You overdid things, Saiksi. If you hadn't set fire to that sealerthe other day, I might not have found you. It was a senseless piece ofwork that did you no good. Oh, you are a sweet character! How do you getyour ultraviolet rays--by filtration or prismatic dispersion?" "By filtration. " "Saiksi, you're a liar as well as a thief. The colored lights you use toattract attention are the discarded rays of the spectrum. No wonder youinvestigated me before you dared flash such a decoy! Well, I'm back inthe navy, and I've been investigating you. As soon as I heard of thefirst symptom of sunburn, I knew it was caused by the ultraviolet rays, the same as from the sun; and I knew that nothing but my light couldproduce those rays at night time. And as a physician I knew what I didnot know as an inventor--the swift amblyopia that follows the impact ofthis light on the retina. As a physician, too, I can inform you thatyour country has not permanently blinded a single American seaman orofficer. The effects wear off. " The Jap gazed stolidly before him while Metcalf delivered himself ofthis, but did not reply. "Where is the Japanese fleet bound?" he asked, sternly. "I do not know. " "And would not tell, whether you knew or not. But you said you werehelpless. What has happened to you? You can tell that. " "A simple thing, Captain Metcalf. My supply of oil leaked away, and myengines must work slowly. Your signal was useless; I could not haveturned on the light. " "You have answered the first question. You are far from home without amother-ship, or she would have found you and furnished oil before this. You have come thus far expecting the fleet to follow and strike ahelpless coast before your supplies ran out. " Again the Jap's eyes dropped in confusion, and Metcalf went on. "I can refurnish your boat with oil, my engineer and my men can handleher, and I can easily learn to manipulate your--or shall I say_our_--invisible searchlight. Hail your craft in English and order allhands on deck unarmed, ready for transshipment to this boat. I shalljoin your fleet myself. " A man was lounging in the hatchway of the submersible, and this manSaiksi hailed. "Ae-hai, ae-hai, Matsu. We surrender. We are prisoner. Call up all menonto the deck. Leave arms behind. We are prisoner. " They mustered eighteen in all, and in half an hour they were ironed in arow along the stanchioned rail of the torpedo-boat. "You, too, Saiksi, " said Metcalf, coming toward him with a pair ofjingling handcuffs. "Is it not customary, Captain Metcalf, " said the Jap, "to parole asurrendered commander?" "Not the surrendered commander of a craft that uses new and deadlyweapons of war unknown to her adversary, and before the declaration ofwar. Hold up your hands. You're going into irons with your men. All Japslook alike to me, now. " So Lieutenant Saiksi, of the Japanese navy, was ironed beside his cookand meekly sat down on the deck. With the difference of dress, theyreally did look alike. Metcalf had thirty men in his crew. With the assistance of his engineer, a man of mechanics, he picked eighteen of this crew and took them and abarrel of oil aboard the submersible. Then for three days the two craftlay together, while the engineer and the men familiarized themselveswith her internal economy--the torpedo-tubes, gasoline-engines, storage-batteries, and motors; and the vast system of pipes, valves, andwires that gave life and action to the boat--and while Metcalfexperimented with the mysterious searchlight attached to the periscopetube invented by himself, but perfected by others. Part of hisinvestigation extended into the night. Externally, the light resembled ahuge cup about two feet in diameter, with a thick disk fitted around itin a vertical plane. This disk he removed; then, hailing Smith to righis fire-hose and get off the deck, he descended the hatchway and turnedon the light, viewing its effects through the periscope. This, be itknown, is merely a perpendicular, non-magnifying telescope that, bymeans of a reflector at its upper end, gives a view of the seascape whena submarine boat is submerged. And in the eyepiece at its base Metcalfbeheld a thin thread of light, of such dazzling brilliancy as tomomentarily blind him, stretch over the sea; but he put on his smokedglasses and turned the apparatus, tube and all, until the thin pencil oflight touched the end of the torpedo-boat's signal-yard. He did not needto bring the two-inch beam to a focus; it burst into flame and hequickly shut off the light and shouted to Smith to put out thefire--which Smith promptly did, with open comment to his handful of menon this destruction of Government property. "Good enough!" he said to Smith, when next they met. "Now if I'm anygood I'll give the Japs a taste of their own medicine. " "Take me along, captain, " burst out Smith in sudden surrender. "I don'tunderstand all this, but I want to be in it. " "No, Mr. Smith. The chief might do your work, but I doubt that you coulddo his. I need him; so you can take the prisoners home. You willundoubtedly retain command. " "Very good, sir, " answered the disappointed youngster, trying to concealhis chagrin. "I don't want you to feel badly about it. I know how you all felt towardme. But I'm on a roving commission. I have no wireless apparatus and nodefinite instructions. I've been lampooned and ridiculed in the papers, and I'm going to give them my answer--that is, as I said, if I'm anygood. If I'm not I'll be sunk. " So when the engineer had announced his mastery of his part of theproblem, and that there was enough of gasoline to cruise for two weekslonger, Smith departed with the torpedo-boat, and Metcalf began hissearch for the expected fleet. It was more by good luck than by any possible calculation that Metcalffinally found the fleet. A steamer out of San Francisco reported that ithad not been heard from, and one bound in from Honolulu said that it wasnot far behind--in fact had sent a shot or two. Metcalf shut offgasoline, waited a day, and saw the smoke on the horizon. Then hesubmerged to the awash condition, which in this boat just floated thesearchlight out of water; and thus balanced, neither floating norsinking nor rolling, but rising and falling with the long pulsing of theground-swell, he watched through the periscope the approach of theenemy. It was an impressive spectacle, and to a citizen of a threatened countrya disquieting one. Nine high-sided battle-ships of ten-gun type--ninefloating forts, each one, unopposed, able to reduce to smoking ruin acity out of sight of its gunners; each one impregnable to the shell fireof any fortification in the world, and to the impact of the heaviesttorpedo yet constructed--they came silently along in line-aheadformation, like Indians on a trail. There were no compromises in thisfleet. Like the intermediate batteries of the ships themselves, cruisershad been eliminated and it consisted of extremes, battle-ships, andtorpedo-boats, the latter far to the rear. But between the two were halfa dozen colliers, repair, and supply ships. Night came down before they were near enough for operations, and Metcalfturned on his invisible light, expanding the beam to embrace the fleetin its light, and moved the boat to a position about a mile away fromits path. It was a weird picture now showing in the periscope: each grayship a bluish-green against a background of black marked here and thereby the green crest of a breaking sea. Within Metcalf's reach were thelevers, cranks, and worms that governed the action of the periscope andthe light; just before him were the vertical and horizontalsteering-wheels; under these a self-illuminating compass, and at his eara system of push-buttons, speaking-tubes, and telegraph-dials that puthim in communication with every man on the boat, each one of whom hadhis part to play at the proper moment, but not one of whom could see orknow the result. The work to be done was in Metcalf's hands and brain, and, considering its potentiality, it was a most undramatic performance. He waited until the leading flag-ship was within half a mile of beingabreast; then, turning on a hanging electric bulb, he held it close tothe eyepiece of the periscope, knowing that the light would go up thetube through the lenses and be visible to the fleet. And in a moment heheard faintly through the steel walls the sound transmitted by the seaof a bugle-call to quarters. He shut off the bulb, watched a wanderingshaft of light from the flag-ship seeking him, then contracted his owninvisible beam to a diameter of about three feet, to fall upon theflag-ship, and played it back and forth, seeking gun ports and aperturesand groups of men, painting all with that blinding light that they couldnot see, nor immediately sense. There was nothing to indicate that hehad succeeded; the faces of the different groups were still turned hisway, and the futile searchlight still wandered around, unable to bringto their view the white tube with its cup-like base. Still waving the wandering beam of white light, the flag-ship passed on, bringing along the second in line, and again Metcalf turned on his bulb. He heard her bugle-call, and saw, in varied shades of green, thetwinkling red and blue lights of her masthead signals, received from theflag-ship and passed down the line. And again he played that green diskof deadly light upon the faces of her crew. This ship, too, was seekinghim with her searchlight, and soon, from the whole nine, a movingnetwork of brilliant beams flashed and scintillated across the sky; butnot one settled upon the cause of their disquiet. Ship after ship passed on, each with its bugle-call to quarters, eachwith its muster of all hands to meet the unknown emergency--the menaceon a hostile coast of a faint white light on the port beam--but not onefiring a shot or shell; there was nothing to fire at. And with thepassing of the last of the nine Metcalf listened to a snapping and abuzzing overhead that told of the burning out of the carbons in thelight. "Good work for the expenditure, " he murmured, wearily. "Let's see--twocarbons and about twenty amperes of current, against nine ships at tenmillions apiece. Well, we'll soon know whether or not it worked. " While an electrician rigged new carbons he rested his eyes and hisbrain; for the mental and physical strain had been severe. Then heplayed the light upon the colliers and supply ships as they charged by, disposing of them in the same manner, and looked for other craft oflarger menace. But there were none, except the torpedo contingent, andthese he decided to leave alone. There were fifteen of them, each asspeedy and as easily handled as his own craft; and already, apprised bythe signaled instructions from ahead, they were spreading out into afan-like formation, and coming on, nearly abreast. "The jig's up, chief, " he called through a tube to the engineer. "We'llget forty feet down until the mosquitoes get by. I'd like to take achance at them but there are too many. We'd get torpedoed, surely. " Down went the diving rudder, and, with a kick ahead of the engine, thesubmersible shot under, heading on a course across the path of thefleet, and in half an hour came to the surface. There was nothing insight, close by, either through the periscope or by direct vision, andMetcalf decided to make for San Francisco and report. It was a wise decision, for at daylight he was floundering in a heavysea and a howling gale from the northwest that soon forced him tosubmerge again for comfort. Before doing so, however, he enjoyed onegood look at the Japanese fleet, far ahead and to port. The line offormation was broken, staggered, and disordered; and, though the bigships were making good weather of it, they were steering badly, and onone of them, half-way to the signal-yard, was the appeal for help thatships of all nations use and recognize--the ensign, upside-down. Underthe lee of each ship was snuggled a torpedo-boat, plunging, rolling, andswamped by the breaking seas that even the mighty bulk to windward couldnot protect them from. And even as Metcalf looked, one twisted in two, her after funnels pointing to port, her forward to starboard, and in tenseconds had disappeared. Metcalf submerged and went on at lesser speed, but in comfort andsafety. Through the periscope he saw one after the other of thetorpedo-craft give up the fight they were not designed for, and shipafter ship hoist that silent prayer for help. They yawed badly, but insome manner or other managed to follow the flag-ship, which, alone ofthat armada, steered fairly well. She kept on the course for the GoldenGate. Even submerged Metcalf outran the fleet before noon, and at night haddropped it, entering the Golden Gate before daylight, still submerged, not only on account of the troublesome turmoil on the surface, but toavoid the equally troublesome scrutiny of the forts, whose searchlightsmight have caught him had he presented more to their view than a slimtube painted white. Avoiding the mines, he picked his way carefully upto the man-of-war anchorage, and arose to the surface, alongside the_Delaware_, now the flag-ship, as the light of day crept upward in theeastern sky. "We knew they were on the coast, " said the admiral, a little later, whenMetcalf had made his report on the quarter-deck of the _Delaware_. "Butabout this light? Are you sure of all this? Why, if it's so, thePresident will rank you over us all. Mr. Smith came in with theprisoners, but he said nothing of an invisible light--only of a strongsearchlight with which you set fire to the signal-yard. " "I did not tell him all, admiral, " answered Metcalf, a little hurt atthe persistence of the feeling. "But I'm satisfied now. That fleet iscoming on with incompetents on the bridge. " "Well, we'll soon know. I've only one ship, but it's my business to getout and defend the United States against invaders, and as soon as I cansteam against this gale and sea I'll go. And I'll want you, too. I'mshort-handed. " "Thank you, sir. I shall be glad to be with you. But wouldn't you liketo examine the light?" "Most certainly, " said the admiral; and, accompanied by his staff, hefollowed Metcalf aboard the submersible. "It is very simple, " explained Metcalf, showing a rough diagram he hadsketched. "You see he has used my system of reflectors about as Idesigned it. The focus of one curve coincides with the focus of thenext, and the result is a thin beam containing nearly all the radiationsof the arc. " "Very simple, " remarked the admiral, dryly. "Very simple indeed. But, admitting this strong beam of light that, as you say, could set fire tothat sealer, and be invisible in sunshine, how about the beam that isinvisible by night? That is what I am wondering about. " "Here, sir, " removing the thick disk from around the light. "Thiscontains the prisms, which refract the beam entirely around the lamp;and disperse it into the seven colors of the spectrum. All the visiblelight is cut out, leaving only the ultraviolet rays, and these travelas fast and as far, and return by reflection, as though accompanied bythe visible rays. " "But how can you see it?" asked an officer. "How is the ship it isdirected at made visible?" "By fluorescence, " answered Metcalf. "The observer is the periscopeitself. Any of the various fluorescing substances placed in the focus ofthe object-glass, or at the optical image in front of the eyepiece, willshow the picture in the color peculiar to the fluorescing material. Thecolor does not matter. " "More simple still, " laughed the admiral. "But how about the coloredlights they saw?" "Simply the discarded light of the spectrum. By removing this cover onthe disk, the different colored rays shoot up. That was to attractattention. I used only white light through the periscope. " "And it was this invisible light that blinded so many men, which in yourhands blinded the crews of the Japanese?" asked the admiral. "Yes, sir. The ultraviolet rays are beneficial as a germicide, but aredeadly if too strong. " "Lieutenant Metcalf, " said the admiral, seriously, "your future in theservice is secure. I apologize for laughing at you; but now that it'sover and you've won, tell us about the spectacles. " "Why, admiral, " responded Metcalf, "that was the simplest proposition ofall. The whole apparatus--prisms, periscope, lenses, and the fluorescingscreen--are made of rock crystal, which is permeable to the ultravioletlight. But common glass, of which spectacles are made, is opaque to it. That is why near-sighted men escaped the blindness. " "Then, unless the Japs are near-sighted, I expect an easy time when I goout. " But the admiral did not need to go out and fight. Those nine bigbattle-ships that Japan had struggled for years to obtain, and theauxiliary fleet of supply and repair ships to keep them in life andhealth away from home, caught on a lee shore in a hurricane againstwhich the mighty _Delaware_ could not steam to sea, piled up one by oneon the sands below Fort Point; and, each with a white flag replacing thereversed ensign, surrendered to the transport or collier sent out totake off the survivors. IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW There are few facilities for cooking aboard submarine torpedo-boats, andthat is why Lieutenant Ross ran his little submarine up alongside theflag-ship at noon, and made fast to the boat-boom--the horizontal sparextending from warships, to which the boats ride when in the water. And, as familiarity breeds contempt, after the first, tentative, trial, hehad been content to let her hang by one of the small, fixed paintersdepending from the boom; for his boat was small, and the tide weak, bringing little strain on painter or boom. Besides, this plan was good, for it kept the submarine from bumping the side of the ship--and paintbelow the water-line is as valuable to a warship as paint above. Thus moored, the little craft, with only her deck and conning-towershowing, rode lightly at the end of her tether, while Ross and hismen--all but one, to watch--climbed aboard and ate their dinner. Ross finished quickly, and sought the deck; for, on going down to thewardroom, he had seen among the visitors from shore the one girl in theworld to him--the girl he had met at Newport, Washington, and New York, whom he wanted as he wanted life, but whom he had not asked for yet, because he had felt so sure of her. And now this surety was jolted out of his consciousness; for she wasthere escorted by a man she had often described, and whom Rossrecognized from the description--a tall, dark, "captainish"-lookingfellow, with a large mustache; but who, far from being a captain orother kind of superman, was merely a photographer--yet a wealthy andsuccessful photographer, whose work was unusual and artistic. Ross, though an efficient naval officer, was anything but "captainish";he was simply a clean-shaven, clean-cut young fellow, with a face thatmirrored every emotion of his soul. Knowing this infirmity--if such itis--he resolutely put down the jealous thoughts that surged through hisbrain; and when the visitors, guests of the captain, reached the deck, he met them, and was introduced to Mr. Foster with as pleasant a face asthe girl had ever seen. Then, with the captain's permission, he invited them down to inspect hissubmarine. A plank from the lower grating of the gangway to the deck ofthe smaller craft was all that was needed, and along this they went, thegirl ahead, supported by Mr. Foster, and Ross following, with amessenger boy from the bridge following him. At the hatch, the girl paused and shrank back, for the wide-open eyes ofthe caretaker were looking up at her. Ross surmised this, and called tothe man to come up and get his dinner; then, as the man passed him andstepped onto the plank, the messenger got his attention. The officer ofthe deck desired to speak with him, he said. Ross explained the manner of descent, admonished his guests to touchnothing until he returned, and followed the messenger back to theofficer of the deck. It was nothing of importance, simply a matterpertaining to the afternoon drill; and, somewhat annoyed, Ross returned. But he paused at the end of the plank; a loud voice from below haltedhim, and he did not care to interrupt. Nor did he care to go back, leaving them alone in a submarine. "I mean it, " Foster was saying vehemently. "I hope this boat does go tothe bottom. " "Why, Mr. Foster!" cried the girl. "What a sentiment!" "I tell you I mean it. You have made life unbearable. " "I make your life unbearable?" "Yes, you, Irene. You know I have loved you from the beginning. And youhave coquetted with me, played with me--as a cat plays with a mouse. When I have endeavored to escape, you have drawn me back by smiles andfavor, and given me hope. Then it is coldness and disdain. I am tired ofit. " "I am sorry, Mr. Foster, if anything in my attitude has caused such animpression. I have given you no special smiles or favors, no specialcoldness or disdain. " "But I love you. I want you. I cannot live without you. " "You lived a long time without me, before we met. " "Yes, before we met. Before I fell under the spell of your personality. You have hypnotized me, made yourself necessary to me. I am heartsickall the time, thinking of you. " "Then you must get over it, Mr. Foster. I must think of myself. " "Then you do not care for me, at all?" "I do, but only as an acquaintance. " "Not even as a friend?" "I do not like to answer such pointed questions, sir; but, since youask, I will tell you. I do not like you, even as a friend. You demand somuch. You are very selfish, never considering my feelings at all, andyou often annoy me with your moods. Frankly, I am happier away fromyou. " "My moods!" Foster repeated, bitterly. "You cause my moods. But I knowwhat the real trouble is. I was all right until Ross came along. " "You have no right, Mr. Foster, " said the girl, angrily, "to bringLieutenant Ross' name into this discussion. " "Oh, I understand. Do you think he can marry you on his pay?" "Mr. Ross' pay would not influence him, nor me. " "Well, I'll tell you this"--and Foster's voice became a snarl--"you twowon't be married. I'll see to it. I want you; and if I can't have you, no one else shall. " "Whew!" whistled Ross, softly, while he smiled sweetly, and danced amental jig in the air. Then he danced a few steps of a real jig, toapprise them of his coming. "Time to end this, " he said; then calledout, cheerily: "Look out below, " and entered the hatch. "Got a bad habit, " he said, as he descended, "of coming down this ladderby the run. Must break myself, before I break my neck. Well, how are youmaking out? Been looking around?" The girl's face, pale but for two red spots in her cheeks, was turnedaway from him as he stepped off the ladder, and she trembled visibly. Foster, though flushed and scowling, made a better effort atself-control. "Why, no, lieutenant, " he said, with a sickly smile. "It is all strangeand new to us. We were waiting for you. But I have become slightlyinterested in this--" He indicated a circular window, fixed in the steelside of the boat. "Isn't it a new feature in submarines?" "Yes, it is, " answered Ross. "But it has long been known that glass willstand a stress equal to that of steel, so they've given us deadlights. See the side of the ship out there? We can see objects about twenty feetaway near the surface. Deeper down it is darker. " "And I suppose you see some interesting sights under water, " pursuedFoster, now recovered in poise. "Yes, very interesting--and some very harrowing. I saw a man drowningnot long ago. We were powerless to help him. " "Heavens, what a sight!" exclaimed Foster. "The expression on his facemust have been tragic. " "Pitiful--the most pitiful I ever looked at. He seemed to be calling tous. Such agony and despair; but it did not last long. " "But while it _did_ last--did you have a camera? What a chance for aphotographer! That is my line, you know. Did ever a photographer get achance to photograph the expression on the face of a drowning man? Whata picture it would be?" "Don't, " said the girl, with a shudder. "For mercy's sake, do not speakof such things. " "I beg your pardon, Miss Fleming, " said Ross, gently. "It was verytactless in me. " "And I, Miss Fleming, " said Foster, with a bow, "was led away byprofessional enthusiasm. Please accept _my_ apology, too. Still, lieutenant, I must say that I would like the chance. " "Sorry, Mr. Foster, " answered Ross, coldly. "We do all sorts of thingsto men in the navy, but we don't drown them for the sake of theirpictures. Suppose I show you around, for at two bells the men will beback from their dinner. Now, aft here, is the gasoline engine, which weuse to propel the boat on the surface. We can't use it submerged, however, on account of the exhaust; so, for under-water work, we use astrong storage battery to work a motor. You see the motor back there, and under this deck is the storage battery--large jars of sulphuric acidand lead. It is a bad combination if salt water floods it. " "How? What happens?" asked Foster. "Battery gas, or, in chemical terms, chlorine gas is formed. It is oneof the most poisonous and suffocating of all gases. That is the realdanger in submarine boats--suffocation from chlorine. It will remain sountil we get a better form of motive power, liquid or compressed air, perhaps. And here"--Ross led them to a valve wheel amidships--"as thoughto invite such disaster, they've given us a sea cock. " "What's it for?" asked Foster. "To sink the boat in case of fire. It's an inheritance fromsteamboats--pure precedent--and useless, for a submarine cannot catchfire. Why, a few turns of that wheel when in the awash trim would admitenough water in two minutes to sink the boat. I've applied forpermission to abolish it. " "Two minutes, you say. Does it turn easy? Would it be possible toaccidentally turn it?" "Very easy, and very possible. I caution my men every day. " "And in case you do sink, and do not immediately suffocate, how do yourise?" "By pumping out the water. There's a strong pump connected with thatmotor aft there, that will force out water against the pressure of thesea at fifty fathoms down. That is ten atmospheres--pretty hardpressure. But, if the motor gets wet, it is useless to work the pump;so, we can be satisfied that, if we sink by means of the sea cock, westay sunk. There is a hand pump, to use on the surface with deadbatteries, but it is useless at any great depth. " "What do you mean by the awash trim, lieutenant?" asked Foster, who wasnow looking out through the deadlight. "The diving trim--that is, submerged all but the conning-tower. I'llshow you, so that you can say that you have really been under water. " Ross turned a number of valves similar to the sea cock, and the girl'sface took on a look of doubt and sudden apprehension. "You are not going to sink the boat, are you, Mr. Ross?" she asked. "Oh, no, just filling the tanks. When full, we still have three hundredpounds reserve buoyancy, and would have to go ahead and steer down. Butwe won't go ahead. Come forward, and I'll show you the torpedo-tube. " Foster remained, moodily staring through the deadlight, while the othertwo went forward. Ross noticed his abstraction, and, ascribing it toweariness of technical detail, did not press him to follow, andcontinued his lecture to Miss Fleming in a lower tone and in evidentembarrassment. "Now, here is the tube, " he said. "See this rear door. It iswater-tight. When a torpedo is in the tube, as it is now, we admitwater, as well; and, to expel the torpedo, we only have to open theforward door, apply compressed air, and out it goes. Then it propels andsteers itself. We have a theory--no, not a theory now, for it has beenproved--that, in case of accident, a submarine's crew can all be ejectedthrough the tube except the last man. He must remain to die, for hecannot eject himself. That man"--Ross smiled and bowed low to thegirl--"must be the commander. " "How terrible!" she answered, interested, but looking back abstractedlyat Foster. "Why do you remain at this work? Your life is always indanger. " "And on that account promotion is more probable. I want promotion, andmore pay"--he lowered his voice and took her hand--"so that I may askfor the love and the life companionship of the dearest and best girl inthe world. " She took her gaze off Foster, cast one fleeting glance into the younglieutenant's pleading face, then dropped her eyes to the deck, while herface flushed rosily. But she did not withdraw her hand. "Must you wait for promotion?" she said, at length. "No, Irene, no, " exclaimed Ross, excitedly, squeezing the small hand inhis own. "Not if you say so; but I have nothing but my pay. " "I have always been poor, " she said, looking him frankly in the face. "But, John, that is not it. I am afraid. He--Mr. Foster, threatenedus--vowed we would never-- Oh, and he turned something back there afteryou started. He did it so quickly--I just barely saw him as I turned tofollow you. I do not know what it was. I did not understand what youwere describing. " "He turned something! What?" "It was a wheel of some kind. " Ross looked at Foster. He was now on the conning-tower ladder, half-wayup, looking at his opened watch, with a lurid, malevolent twist to hisfeatures. "Say your prayers!" yelled Foster, insanely. "You two are going to die, I say. Die, both of you. " He sprang up the ladder, and Ross bounded aft, somewhat bewildered bythe sudden turn of events. He was temporarily at his wits' end. But whenFoster floundered down to the deck in a deluge of water from above, andthe conning-tower hatch closed with a ringing clang, he understood. Onelook at the depth indicator was enough. The boat was sinking. He sprangto the sea-cock valve. It was wide open. "Blast your wretched, black heart and soul, " he growled, as he hove thewheel around. "Did you open this valve? Hey, answer me. You did, didn'tyou? And thought to escape yourself--you coward!" "Oh, God!" cried Foster, running about distractedly. "We're sinking, andI can't get out. " Ross tightened the valve, and sprang toward him, the murder impulsestrong in his soul. In imagination, he felt his fingers on the throat ofthe other, and every strong muscle of his arms closing more tightly hisgrip. Then their plight dominated his thoughts; he merely struck outsilently, and knocked the photographer down. "Get up, " he commanded, as the prostrate man rolled heavily over on hishands and knees. "Get up, I may need you. " Foster arose, and seated himself on a torpedo amidships, where he sankhis head in his hands. With a glance at him, and a reassuring look atthe girl, who still remained forward, Ross went aft to connect up thepump. But as he went, he noticed that the deck inclined more and morewith each passing moment. He found the depressed engine room full of water, and the motor flooded. It was useless to start it; it would short-circuit at the first contact;and he halted, wondering at the boat's being down by the stern so much, until a snapping sound from forward apprised him of the reason. The painter at the boom had held her nose up until the weight was toomuch for it, and, with its parting, the little craft assumed nearly aneven keel, while the water rushed forward among the battery jars beneaththe deck. Then a strong, astringent odor arose through the seams in thedeck, and Ross became alive. "Battery gas!" he exclaimed, as he ran amidships, tumbling Foster offthe torpedo with a kick--for he was in his way. He reached up andturned valve after valve, admitting compressed air from the flasks tothe filled tanks, to blow out the water. This done, he looked at thedepth indicator; it registered seventy feet; but, before he coulddetermine the speed of descent, there came a shock that permeated thewhole boat. They were on the bottom. "And Lord only knows, " groaned Ross, "how much we've taken in! But it'sonly three atmospheres, thank God. Here, you, " he commanded to thenerveless Foster, who had again found a seat. "Lend a hand on this pump. I'll deal with your case when we get up. " "What must I do?" asked Foster, plaintively, as he turned his face, anashy green now, toward Ross. "Pump, " yelled Ross, in his ear. "Pump till you break your back ifnecessary. Ship that brake. " He handed Foster his pump-brake, and they shipped them in the hand-pump. But, heave as they might, they could not move it, except in jerks ofabout an inch. With an old-fashioned force-pump, rusty from disuse, athree-inch outlet, and three atmospheres of pressure, pumping wasuseless, and they gave it up, even though the girl added her littleweight and strength to the task. Ross had plenty of compressed air in the numerous air flasks scatteredabout, and, as he could blow out no more tanks, he expended a jet intothe choking atmosphere of the boat. It sweetened the air a little, butthere was enough of the powerful, poisonous gas generated to keep themall coughing continually. However, he seated the girl close to the airjet, so that she need not suffer more than was necessary. "Are we in danger, John?" she asked. "Real danger, I mean?" "Yes, dear, we are, " he answered, tenderly. "And it is best that youshould know. I have driven out all the water possible, and we cannotpump at this depth. Higher up we could. But I can eject the torpedofrom the tube, and perhaps the others. That will lighten us a gooddeal. " He went forward, driving Foster before him--for he did not care to leavehim too close to the girl--and pushed him bodily into the cramped spacebetween the tube and the trimming tanks. "Stay there, " he said, incisively, "until I want you. " "What can I do?" whimpered the photographer, a brave bully before thegirl, when safe; a stricken poltroon now. "I'll do anything you say, toget to the surface. " "You'll get to the surface in time, " answered Ross, significantly. "Howmuch do you weigh?" "Two hundred pounds. " "Two hundred more than we want. However, I'll get rid of this torpedo. " Ross drove the water out of the tube, opened the breech-door; and, reaching in with a long, heavy wire, lifted the starting lever and watertripper that gave motion to the torpedo's engine. The exhaust of airinto the tube was driven out into the boat by the rapidly moving screws, and in a few moments the engine ran down. Then Ross closed the door, flooded the tube, opened the forward door, orport, and sent out the torpedo, confident that, with a dead engine, itwould float harmlessly to the surface, and perhaps locate their positionto the fleet; for there could be little doubt that the harbor above wasdotted with boats, dragging for the sunken submarine. As the torpedo went out, Ross noticed that the nose of the boat lifted alittle, then settled as the tube filled with water. This wasencouraging, and he expelled the water. The nose again lifted, but thestern still held to the bottom. There were two other torpedoes, oneeach side, amidships, and though the dragging to the tube of these heavyweights was a job for all hands, Ross essayed it. They were mounted on trucks, and with what mechanical aids and purchaseshe could bring to bear, he and the subdued Foster labored at the task, and in an hour had the starboard torpedo in the tube. As he was expending weights, he did not take into the 'midship tank anequal weight of water, as was usual to keep the boat in trim, and whenthe torpedo, robbed of motive power and detonator, went out, the bowlifted still higher, though the stern held, as was evidenced by thegrating sound from aft. The tide was drifting the boat along the bottom. Another hour of hard, perspiring work rid them of the other torpedo, andthe boat now inclined at an angle of thirty degrees, down by the sternbecause of the water in the engine room, but not yet at the criticalangle that caused the flooding of the after battery jars as the boatsank. Ross looked at the depth indicator, but found small comfort. It read offa depth of about sixty feet, but this only meant the lift of the bow. However, the propeller guard only occasionally struck the bottom now, proving to Ross that, could he expend a very little more weight, theboat would rise to the surface, where, even though he might not pump, his periscope and conning-tower could be seen. He panted after hislabors until he had regained breath, then said to Foster: "You next. " "I next? What do you mean?" "You want to get to the surface, don't you?" said Ross, grimly. "Youexpressed yourself as willing to do anything I might say, in order toget to the surface. Well, strip off your coat, vest, and shoes, andcrawl into that tube. " "What? To drown? No, I will not. " "Yes, you will. Can you swim?" "I can swim, but not when I am shot out of a gun. " "Then you'll drown. Peel off. " "I cannot. I cannot. Would you kill me?" "Don't care much, " answered Ross, quietly, "if I do. Only I don't wantyour dead body in the boat. Come, now, " he added, his voice rising. "I'mgiving you a chance for your life. I can swim, too, and would nothesitate at going out that tube, if I were sure that the boat, deprivedof my weight, would rise. But I am not sure, so I send you, not onlybecause you are heavier than I, but because, as Miss Fleming mustremain, I prefer to remain, too, to live or die with her. Understand?" "But, Miss Fleming, " cackled Foster. "She can swim. I've heard her sayso. " "You cowardly scoundrel, " said Ross, his eyes ablaze with scorn andrage. He had already shed his coat and vest. Now he rolled up hisshirt-sleeves. "Will you go into that tube of your own volition, conscious, so that you may take a long breath before I flood the tube, or unconscious, and pushed in like a bag of meal, to drown before youknow what ails you--which?" "No, " shrieked Foster, as the menacing face and fists of Ross drew closeto him. "I will not. Do something else. You are a sailor. You know whatto do. Do something else. " Ross' reply was a crashing blow in the face, that sent Foster reelingtoward the tube. But he arose, and returned, the animal fear in himchanged to courage. He was a powerfully built man, taller, broader, andheavier than Ross, and what he lacked in skill with his fists, hepossessed in the momentum of his lunges, and his utter indifference topain. Ross was a trained boxer, strong, and agile, and where he struck thelarger man he left his mark; but in the contracted floor space of thesubmarine he was at a disadvantage. But he fought on, striking, ducking, and dodging--striving not only for his own life, but that of the girlwhom he loved, who, seated on the 'midship trimming tank, was watchingthe fight with pale face and wide-open, frightened eyes. Once, Ross managed to trip him as he lunged, and Foster fell headlong;but before Ross could secure a weapon or implement to aid him in theunequal combat, he was up and coming back, with nose bleeding andswollen, eyes blackened and half closed, and contusions plentifullysprinkled over his whole face. He growled incoherently; he was reduced by fear and pain to the level ofa beast, and, beast-like, he fought for his life--with hands and feet, only the possession of the prehensile thumb, perhaps, preventing himfrom using his teeth; for Ross, unable to avoid his next blind lunge, went down, with the whole two hundred pounds of Foster on top of him, and felt the stricture of his clutch on his throat. A man being choked quickly loses power of volition, entirely distinctfrom the inhibition coming of suppressed breathing; after a few moments, his movements are involuntary. Ross, with flashes of light before his eyes, soon took his hands fromthe iron fingers at his throat, and, with the darkening of hisfaculties, his arms and legs went through flail-like motions, rising andfalling, thumping the deck with rhythmic regularity. Something in this exhibition must have affected the girl at the air jet;for Ross soon began to breathe convulsively, then to see more or lessdistinctly--while his limbs ceased their flapping--and the first thinghe saw was the girl standing over him, her face white as the whites ofher distended eyes, her lips pressed tightly together, and poised aloftin her hands one of the pump-brakes, ready for another descent upon thehead of Foster, who, still and inert, lay by the side of Ross. As Ross moved and endeavored to rise, she dropped the club, and sankdown, crying his name and kissing him. Then she incontinently fainted. Ross struggled to his feet, and, though still weak and nerveless, foundsome spun yarn in a locker, with which he tied the unconscious victim'shands behind his back, and lashed his ankles together. Thus secured, hewas harmless when he came to his senses, which happened before Ross hadrevived the girl. But there were no growling threats coming from himnow; conquered and bound, his courage changed to fear again, and hecomplained and prayed for release. "Not much, " said Ross, busy with the girl. "When I get my wind, I'mgoing to jam you into that tube, like a dead man. I'll release youinside. " When Miss Fleming was again seated on the tank, breathing fresh air fromthe jet, Ross went to work with the practical methods of a sailor. Hefirst, by a mighty exercise of all his strength, loaded the frightenedFoster on to one of the torpedo trucks, face downward; then he wheeledhim to the tube, so that his uplifted face could look squarely into it;then he passed a strap of rope around under his shoulders, to which heapplied the big end of a ship's handspike, that happened to be aboard;and to the other end of this, as it lay along the back of Foster, hesecured the single block of a small tackle--one of the purchases he hadused in handling the torpedoes--and when he had secured the double blockto an eyebolt in the bow, he steadied the handspike between his knees, hauled on the fall, with no word to the screaming wretch, and launchedhim, head and shoulders, into the tube. As his hands, tied behind him, went in, Ross carefully cut one turn ofthe spun yarn, hauled away, and as his feet disappeared, he cut thebonds on his ankles; then he advised him to shake his hands and feetclear, pulled out the handspike, slammed the breech-door to, and waited. The protest from within had never ceased; but at last Ross got from theinformation, interlarded with pleadings for life, that his hands andfeet were free. "All right. Take a good breath, and I'll flood you, " called Ross. "Whenyou're outside, swim up. " The voice from within ceased. Ross threw over the lever that admitted water to the tube, opened theforward door, and applied the compressed air. There was a slight jump tothe boat's nose, but with the inrush of water as Foster went out, itsank. However, when Ross closed the forward door, and had expelled this water, it rose again, and he anxiously inspected the depth indicator. At first, he hardly dared believe it, but in a few moments he was sure. The indicator was moving, hardly faster than the minute hand of a clock. The boat, released of the last few pounds necessary, was seeking thesurface. "Irene, " he shouted, joyously, "we're rising. We'll be afloat beforelong, and they'll rescue us. Even though we can't pump, they'll see ourperiscope, and tow us somewhere where they can lift the hatch out ofwater. It's all over, girl--all over but the shouting. Stand up, andlook at the indicator. Only fifty-five feet now. " She stood beside him, supported by his arm, and together they watchedthe slowly moving indicator. Then Ross casually glanced at thedeadlight, and violently forced the girl to her seat. "Sit still, " he commanded, almost harshly. "Sit still, and rest. " For, looking in through the deadlight, was the white face of Foster, washed clean of blood, but filled with the terror and agony of thedying. His hands clutched weakly at the glass, his eyes closed, hismouth opened, and he drifted out of sight. Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Dialect spellings have been retained.