beach a small fire was burning, and at this the officer of the
watch was gazing through his telescope. He was quite alone, and standing
in a shaded corner of the bridge. "What sort of a watch can one man
keep?" muttered Maclean who had served on an Australian gunboat. He
stepped to the officer's side, seized the telescope in his left hand,
and as the startled man turned, he dealt him a terrible blow on the nape
of his neck with the hammer. The officer fell into his arms sighing out
his breath. Maclean laid him gently on the floor, and relieved him of
his revolver. Then he slid softly to the machine-gun, and uttered a low,
irrepressible cry of joy to find that it was stored with cartridges and
prepared for action. A moment later its muzzle commanded the deck before
the forecastle. One of the sailors had just commenced a song. He had a
fine tenor voice, and the others listened entranced. Maclean, however,
rapped three times very loudly on the railing with his hammer, and the
song ceased.

Someone called to him in Russian, but he would not have answered even if
he understood. His every sense was strained to listen. He counted
twenty, the song commenced again. Thirty, forty. Then a wild scream
resounded through the vessel.

"Sievers is dealing with the watch on the after-hold," muttered Maclean.
"Hurry!" he whispered. "Hurry! Sievers, hurry!"

The sailors forward were now afoot, exclaiming aloud and glancing
questioningly at one another. A great many more, too, poured out every
second from the forecastle, made curious by the noise. Maclean grasped
the crank firmly and gave them every scrap of his attention. There woke
an increasing buzz of shouts and cries astern. It culminated presently
in the crack of a revolver, a shriek of pain, and a wild British cheer.
Then all over the din a loud, insistent whistle shrilled. The sailors
forward rushed for their stacked arms, and formed in ranks with the
speed of magic. A petty officer shouted a command, and down the deck
they started at the double.

"Halt!" Maclean shouted, and he turned the crank of the Nordenfeldt. The
effect was horrible. A dozen fell at the first discharge. The rest
halted, and after one dazed instant's wavering, threw down their arms,
broke and fled for the cover of the forecastle. The air was filled with
the sound of groans. The deck was like a shambles. Maclean watched three
or four poor wounded creatures crawl off on their hands and knees for
shelter and