bell. But even as he grasped the lever with his hand, he paused.

"What now?" demanded the mate, his face tense with passion. "Hurry's the
word, sir. Hurry!"

The captain, however, turned and looked him in the eye. "You've
counseled me to murder--wholesale murder, Maclean. Avast there, man!
Keep your mouth shut. This is my bridge, and I'll not hear another word
from you."

The mate bit his lips and shrugged his shoulders. His eyes were blazing
with contempt and rage, but he kept his self-control, and was rewarded
by a dozen sympathetic glances from those of the crew grouped upon the
deck who had heard the controversy. From that moment he was their idol.
The second mate, too, who was standing by the wheel, turned and nodded
to him as he passed.

The captain, who missed nothing of this by-play, felt himself to have
been absolutely isolated. But he was a strong man, and he knew that he
acted rightly. Five minutes later four thunderous reports rang out, and
shells splashed the sea on all sides of the _Saigon_. Then the
machine-guns began to speak, and a perfect storm of bullets tore through
the vessel's rigging, some directed so low that they pierced the top rim
of the funnel smoke-stack. The display lasted sixty seconds. When it was
over, a very sheepish looking lot of men arose from the recumbent
attitudes they had assumed. Of the whole ship's company on deck, Captain
Brandon, Hugh Maclean, and the chief engineer had alone remained
standing.

There was a new flag at the _Nevski's_ truck. "Follow at full speed!" it
commanded. The _Saigon_ instantly obeyed. Before night fell, the moon
rose, three-quarters full. It lighted the procession into dawn. Sunrise
brought them to a rock-bound coast, and so nicely had the _Nevski's_
navigator steered, that the first headland circumvented made room for
the revelation of a little bay. It was enclosed on three sides with gray
hills, and across the mouth was stretched a broken line of
hungry-looking surf-crowned reefs. The _Nevski_ steamed boldly through
the first opening, and dropped her anchor in smooth water three-quarters
of a mile beyond. The _Saigon_, currishly obedient to the Russian's
signals, followed suit, bringing up within a biscuit cast of her consort
and captor. An hour later Hugh Maclean, the engineer, and the lesser
officers and thirty-two men of the _Saigon's_ company and some two score
of Russian sailors were working like slaves transferring, under the
supervision