htness of the
books, the relation of high thinking to high-conduct, the transmutation
of midnight thought into action in the high place on the poop of a coal-
carrier in the year nineteen-thirteen, my woman beside me, my ancestors
behind me, my slant-eyed servitors under me, the beasts beneath me and
beneath the heel of me. God! I felt kingly. I knew at last the meaning
of kingship.

My anger was white and cold. This subterranean rat of a miserable human,
crawling through the bowels of the ship to threaten me and mine! A rat
in the shelter of a knot-hole making a noise as beast-like as any rat
ever made! And it was in this spirit that I answered the gangster.

"When you crawl on your belly, along the open deck, in the broad light of
day, like a yellow cur that has been licked to obedience, and when you
show by your every action that you like it and are glad to do it, then,
and not until then, will I talk with you."

Thereafter, for the next ten minutes, he shouted all the Billingsgate of
his kind at me through the slits in the ventilator. But I made no reply.
I listened, and I listened coldly, and as I listened I knew why the
English had blown their mutinous Sepoys from the mouths of cannon in
India long years ago.

* * * * *

And when, this morning, I saw the steward struggling with a five-gallon
carboy of sulphuric acid, I never dreamed the use he intended for it.

In the meantime I was devising another way to overcome that deadly
ventilator shaft. The scheme was so simple that I was shamed in that it
had not occurred to me at the very beginning. The slitted opening was
small. Two sacks of flour, in a wooden frame, suspended by ropes from
the edge of the chart-house roof directly above, would effectually cover
the opening and block all revolver fire.

No sooner thought than done. Tom Spink and Louis were on top the chart-
house with me and preparing to lower the flour, when we heard a voice
issuing from the shaft.

"Who's in there now?" I demanded. "Speak up."

"I'm givin' you a last chance," Bert Rhine answered.

And just then, around the corner of the house, stepped the steward. In
his hand he carried a large galvanized pail, and my casual thought was
that he had come to get rain-water from the barrels. Even as I thought
it, he made a sweeping half-circle with the pail and sloshed its contents
into the ventilator-opening. And even as the liquid flew through the air
I knew it for what it wa