all sorts of subjects, but rarely of my position.
Recrimination thereanent is useless and only subjects me to renewed
bantering.

_October 22_.--To-day I asked Engineer Serko whether the _Ebba_ had
put to sea again with the tug.

"Yes, Mr. Simon Hart," he replied, "and though the clouds gather and
loud the tempest roars, be in no uneasiness in regard to our dear
_Ebba_."

"Will she be gone long?"

"We expect her back within forty-eight hours. It is the last voyage
Count d'Artigas proposes to make before the winter gales render
navigation in these parts impracticable."

"Is her voyage one of business or pleasure?"

"Of business, Mr. Hart, of business," answered Engineer Serko with
a smile. "Our engines are now completed, and when the fine weather
returns we shall resume offensive operations."

"Against unfortunate merchantmen."

"As unfortunate as they are richly laden."

"Acts of piracy, whose impunity will, I trust, not always be assured,"
I cried..

"Calm yourself, dear colleague, be calm! Be calm! No one, you know,
can ever discover our retreat, and none can ever disclose the secret!
Besides, with these engines, which are so easily handled and are of
such terrible power, it would be easy for us to blow to pieces any
ship that attempted to get within a certain radius of the island."

"Providing," I said, "that Thomas Roch has sold you the composition of
his deflagrator as he has sold you that of his fulgurator."

"That he has done, Mr. Hart, and it behooves me to set your mind at
rest upon that point."

From this categorical response I ought to have concluded that the
misfortune had been consummated, but a certain hesitation in the
intonation of his voice warned me that implicit reliance was not to be
placed upon Engineer Serko's assertions.

_October 25_.--What a frightful adventure I have just been mixed up
in, and what a wonder I did not lose my life! It is only by a miracle
that I am able to resume these notes, which have been interrupted for
forty-eight hours. With a little luck, I should have been delivered!
I should now be in one of the Bermudan ports--St. George or Hamilton.
The mysteries of Back Cup would have been cleared up. The description
of the schooner would have been wired all over the world, and she
would not dare to put into any port. The provisioning of Back Cup
would be impossible, and Ker Karraje's bandits would be condemned to
starve to death!

This is what occurred:

At