ing consciousness
I found that the strong arm of its owner was supporting my head and
shoulders. My eyes looked into those of our captain.

"It's all right, Jack," he explained. "We got to you just as you fell
and Tom drove that villain back. How badly cut are you?"

"A glancing cut, I think. But I'm a bit dizzy? We beat them, didn't
we?"

"Yes. The rats have scuttled back to their holes."

He helped me into the reception room and I sank down on the lounge.

"Just a bit light-headed," I explained to Yeager, who came in at that
moment.

"Glad it's no worse. We gave them a drubbing, anyhow."

"Get Bothwell?" asked Sam.

"Nope. My gun was empty. I had him at the foot of the ladder, not ten
feet from the muzzle, and _click_--nothing doing. The beggar turned and
laughed in my face."

"Keep a lookout, Alderson," the captain ordered, while he unbuttoned my
coat. "Tom, you'd better take a look around and size up the damage."

"Mott is dead. I found his body in the cabin," I told our chief.

"I was afraid of it. With Mott gone and Dugan wounded we were short two
men at the beginning of the scrimmage. Eight to fourteen--devilish long
odds. Easy with that sleeve there. Here you, Billie Blue, get me a
sponge and a basin of water. And tell Miss Wallace to bring her sticking
plaster."

Morgan, very white, was sitting on the opposite lounge trying to stop
with a handkerchief the blood from a scalp wound. From where I lay I
could see the body of Williams just outside the saloon. A stray bullet
from one of the retreating mutineers had killed him at the very close of
the battle.

Altogether that left us five sound men, counting Blue as a man, and
three wounded ones. The pirates had suffered more. One I had disposed of
at the first rush, just before they reached the cabin, and the flunky
had wounded one of the firemen.

Yeager had picked off Johnson in the run for the bridge, and Sam had
wounded Caine. In addition to these at least two more had been blooded
in the scrimmage at close quarters outside the wheelhouse.

"Eight of them left against five of us, not counting the wounded on
either side," Yeager summed up.

"What has become of Philips?" I asked, remembering that I had not seen
him since the row began.

"Thought I saw him run down stairs when the beggars poured in on us
here, sir," Alderson answered.

Later the poor fellow was found in his berth, trembling like an aspen
leaf. He had locked his door and burie