the gang, sheltered by the 'midship-house, showed that it stood
ready for the rush when the doors were battered down.

Inside, the steward guarded one door with his hacking knife, while with
his spear Wada guarded the other door. Nor, while I had dispatched them
to this duty, was I idle. Behind the jiggermast I lighted the fuse of
one of my extemporized bombs. When it was sputtering nicely I ran across
the poop to the break and dropped the bomb to the main deck beneath, at
the same time making an effort to toss it in under the overhang where the
men battered at the port-door. But this effort was distracted and made
futile by a popping of several revolver shots from the gangways
amidships. One _is_ jumpy when soft-nosed bullets putt-putt around him.
As a result, the bomb rolled about on the open deck.

Nevertheless, the illuminators had earned the respect of the mutineers
for my fireworks. The sputtering and fizzling of the fuse were too much
for them, and from under the poop they ran for'ard like so many scuttling
rabbits. I know I could have got a couple with my rifle had I not been
occupied with lighting the fuse of a second bomb. Margaret managed three
wild shots with her revolver, and the poop was immediately peppered by a
scattering revolver fire from for'ard.

Being provident (and lazy, for I have learned that it takes time and
labour to manufacture home-made bombs), I pinched off the live end of the
fuse in my hand. But the fuse of the first bomb, rolling about on the
main deck, merely fizzled on; and as I waited I resolved to shorten my
remaining fuses. Any of the men who fled, had he had the courage, could
have pinched off the fuse, or tossed the bomb overboard, or, better yet,
he could have tossed it up amongst us on the poop.

It took fully five minutes for that blessed fuse to burn its slow length,
and when the bomb did go off it was a sad disappointment. I swear it
could have been sat upon with nothing more than a jar to one's nerves.
And yet, in so far as the intimidation goes, it did its work. The men
have not since ventured under the overhang of the poop.

That the mutineers were getting short of food was patent. The
_Elsinore_, sailless, drifted about that morning, the sport of wind and
wave; and the gang put many lines overboard for the catching of
mollyhawks and albatrosses. Oh, I worried the hungry fishers with my
rifle. No man could show himself for'ard without having a bullet whop