ifferent size.

"We'll start off with an appetizer, gentlemen," said the host, as he
passed the decanter to his neighbor. "Here is some of the best Dutch
courage ever distilled; try it."

The decanter went around, each filling his glass and holding it poised;
then, when all were supplied, they drank to the grizzled old captain's
toast: "A speedy and pleasant passage home for the _Almena_, and
further confusion to her misguided crew." The captain responded
gracefully, and began serving the stew, which the steward took from him
plate by plate, and passed around.

But, either because thirteen men had sat down to that table, or because
the Fates were unusually freakish that day, it was destined that,
beyond the initial glass of whisky, not a man present should partake of
Captain Benson's dinner. On deck things had been happening, and just as
the host had filled the last plate for himself, a wet, bedraggled,
dirty little man, his tarry clothing splashed with the slime of the
deck, his eyes flaming green, his face expanded to a smile of ferocity,
appeared in the forward doorway, holding a cocked revolver which
covered them all. Behind him in the passage were other men, equally
unkempt, their eyes wide open with excitement and anticipation.

"Don't ye move," yelped the little man, "not a man. Keep yer hands out
o' yer pockets. Put 'em over yer heads. That's it. You too, cappen."

They obeyed him (there was death in the green eyes and smile), all but
one. Captain Benson sprang to his feet, with a hand in his breast
pocket.

"You scoundrels!" he cried, as he drew forth a pistol. "Leave this----"
The speech was stopped by a report, deafening in the closed-up space;
and Captain Benson fell heavily, his pistol rattling on the floor.

"Hang me up, will ye?" growled another voice through the smoke.

In the after-door were more men, the red-haired Seldom Helward in the
van, holding a smoking pistol. "Get the gun, one o' you fellows over
there," he called.

A man stepped in and picked up the pistol, which he cocked.

"One by one," said Seldom, his voice rising to the pitch and timbre of
a trumpet-blast, "you men walk out the forward companionway with your
hands over your heads. Plug them, Sinful, if two move together, and
shoot to kill."

Taken by surprise, the guests, resolute men though they were, obeyed
the command. As each rose to his feet, he was first relieved of a
bright revolver, which served to increase the moral