iege in this house, we must hold every gate of it. There are
men in the galleries below; Heaven knows how many of them. I would name
that first and let the rest come after."

He was put about at this, and made haste to express a gratitude I had
not looked for. His naval training prompted him to habits of authority.
I could see that he was itching to be up and acting, and I knew that he
needn't wait long for that.

"Indeed," says he, warmly, "we owe our lives to you, as many a good
seaman will owe it in the days to come. I should have spoken of that
first. The wonders of this place drive other thoughts from a man's
head. We were half dead when we saw your signal, captain. What has
become of my fellow-passengers and the rest of the crew, God alone
knows. They put us ashore on the island after the ship was taken last
night, and nine of us, as you see, are here to tell the story. I have
heard the tradition of Ken's Island from the Japanese, but I never
believed a word of it before yesterday. Now I know that it is true. My
fellow-passengers are there, dead or dying, and at sundown I am
certainly going ashore to do what I can for them."

"You are a brave man, Captain Nepeen," said I, "a very brave man. Where
you go I follow. We cannot leave poor seamen to perish, cost us what it
may. Yet I would not hide it from you that it is a big business, and
that the man who goes to Ken's Island to-night may never return. We are
now fourteen in this house, and our first duty is to leave it safe for
those who trust us. With your help, Captain Nepeen, we'll answer the
scum down below," said I.

He assented very heartily and began to speak of the arms that we had
and of the manner of employing them. His fellows, I learned, were
bivouacked in the great hall, and these he waked first while I was
getting the sleep out of my eyes and asking myself, "What next?" The
room in which I lay was Czerny's own room; and now in the daylight the
sea played cool and green upon the arched windows and showed to me such
sights on the rocks without as I had never dreamed of in the darker
hours. What genius had pitched upon such a house under the waves? I
asked. What spirit of evil breathed upon this dreadful place? What
craving for solitude sent this master-mind here to the bed of the
Pacific Ocean, where it could spy upon these uncanny secrets, watching
the still green water, face to face with devilish shapes butting upon
the glass, the friend of the horr