exaggerated strength of a supreme effort. He hurled himself to the
out-swung support and seizing the stern line began hacking at its tarred
tautness as he bellowed ghastly laughter and blasphemies. Coulter from
his place below sent two more bullets into the great hulk of flesh that
hung tenaciously and menacingly above him, but, as the second spat out,
the rope, none too good at best, parted and the boat, held only by its
bow line, swung down with a mighty snap, spilling its occupants into the
sea like apples tossed from an overturned plate. We had a momentary
glimpse of the captain clinging to the gunwale, his legs lashing out
flail-like. Then his hold loosened and he fell with a splash into the
phosphorus water where the sharks were already gathering. And at the
same moment, his mission performed, Hoak slowly slid around the curving
davit and dropped limply after him.

Young Mansfield's voice came vaguely to my ear. "They've overlooked the
life-raft," he said. "Let's have a try at that. There's not much time
now."

The starboard scuppers were letting in sea water and the flames were
creeping close, as we turned together, holding to the shadows of the
superstructure, and ran forward.

We were tearing our fingers raw over stiffened knots when a rush of feet
interrupted us. The next instant I saw my companion lashing out with the
butt of his pistol, and surrounded by a quartette of assailants. In the
moonlight he loomed gigantic and heroic of proportion. I, too, was
surrounded and conscious only of a wild new elation and battle-lust, as
I fought.

Suddenly there came a terrific shock, preceded by a wildly screaming
hiss in the bowels of the _Wastrel's_ hull. The torn shell quivered in
an insensate death-rattle, and under a detonation at once hollow and
loud a mass of timbers shot upward amidships. The boilers had let go and
we hung wavering for the final plunge, yet it did not come at once. Then
I suppose I was struck by falling debris. With a dizzy sense of stars
dancing as lawlessly as rocket sparks and dying as quickly into
blackness, I lost all hold on consciousness.

CHAPTER VII

IN STRANGE CIRCUMSTANCES.

Pongee pajamas and a revolver belt constitute a light equipment even for
the tropics, but that was the least pressing of my concerns.

How long I had remained insensible I can only estimate, but often there
come back to me, from that time, wraith-like shreds of memory in which I
seem to have drif