affair was over in two minutes, the blue-jackets circling out
like a fan, and pressing their enemy into a helpless mass against the
rail. For a moment the fight was furious, every man for himself, then
the Lieutenant drove like a wedge into the bunch, and it was all over.
I struggled to my feet, still viewing all through a mist, and swaying
back and forward as I endeavored to steady myself on the rolling deck.
There was no one at the wheel, and the bow of the _Sea Gull_ was
swinging slowly about.

"On to the bridge there, Coates, and hold up her head," sang out the
officer. "Boatswain, take charge of these beauties, and run them into
the forecastle. Leave two men on guard, and take a squint into the
engine room. Report to me here."

He took off his coat, examined a long slit in its side where a vicious
knife had ripped it from shoulder to tail; then slipped it on again,
and watched his men drive their prisoners forward.

"I 'd like to know which one of them did that," he growled, glancing
toward me. "Say, what 's the matter with you--shot? You 're white as
a sheet of paper, man."

"I got one on the head with a belaying pin from the heft of it. The
bullet touched me--here. Lord, how it burns."

"Who did the shooting?"

"Henley here," and I touched the fellow with my foot. "He fired just
as I hit him."

The Lieutenant stepped forward and looked down into the upturned face.

"So that's the man!" he exclaimed. "We 've done a good day's work. I
've heard stories of that half-breed ever since we 've been on this
coast. He must be a natural devil, but he 's played hide and seek with
Uncle Sam for the last time. This will be a feather in the 'old man's'
cap. He 's waking up."

Henley stirred as he spoke, and opened his eyes, staring up into my
face, and then at the Lieutenant's uniform. The sight of the latter
perplexed him.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked angrily, making an effort to rise.
"Where is Broussard?"

"Henley," I said, stepping in between them, "the game is up, and the
best thing you can do now is keep quiet. This gentleman is Lieutenant
Hutton, of the Revenue Cutter _Saline_, and his men have the crew of
the _Sea Gull_ under hatches forward. Give me back those papers."

[Illustration: "Give me back those papers."]

He had the envelope still clasped in his left hand, and he glanced at
it dully, and then beyond me toward Hutton. Apparently his brain, yet
numbed by the blow, failed