d on the
gun butt, waiting until he had to pull it. Schwenky said: "Come here,
Mr. Perkins, sir. Look see what has happened!"

The Englishman peered at the shapeless, hairy mass of the unconscious
Captain. His face went white. Gene knew he was wondering if he could
keep the crew from mutiny without the Captain present to cow them.
Perkins straightened, his face a pallid mask in the dimness. "What
happened, Schwenky?"

"This, Mr. Perkins, sir--" said Schwenky. He slapped an open palm
against the side of Perkins' head. Perkins sprawled full length on the
steel deck, but he wasn't out, which surprised Gene. He lay there,
staring up at the gigantic Swede, his face half red from the terrible
blow, the other half white with the fear in him. His hand was tugging at
his side and Gene realized he was after his gun. Gene pulled out his own
weapon even as he leaped upon the slim body of the man on the floor. His
feet missed the moving arm, the hand came out with a snub-nosed
automatic in it. Gene grabbed it, bore down. But the gun went off, the
bullet ricocheting off the wall-plates with a scream. Gene slugged the
man across the head with the barrel of the Captain's gun. Perkins went
limp. Maher came up now and grabbed Perkins' gun.

"Lead on," said Gene. He picked Perkins up and put him over his
shoulder. Schwenky retrieved the slumbering Captain and they proceeded
on their way to the cell on the bottom deck.

But the shot had been heard, and from above came the sound of running
feet. Gene began to trot, almost fell down the last flight of stairs,
went along the companionway at a run. At the cell door he dropped
Perkins, tried four or five keys frantically. One fit. He pulled open
the door and Schwenky drove in, kicking the body of Perkins over the
sill. The Captain dropped heavily to the deck and Schwenky was out
again. Gene was locking the door when he heard the shout from Symonds,
running toward them.

"What's going on there, men?"

Schwenky started to amble toward the dark, wiry Second, his big face
smiling like that of a simpleton. "We haf little trouble, Mr. Symonds,
sir. Maybe we should call you, but we did not haf time. Everything is
all right now. You come see, we explain everything...."

He made a grab for the little Second Mate's neck with one big paw. But
the Second was wary, ducked quickly, was off. Gene and Maher sprang
after him. Gene shouted: "Stop or I'll fire, Symonds! You're all alone
now!"

Gene let