u can't, and you'd better not try, or
threaten to. Your position is known, and three scouts started this
morning from Boston and New York."

"That bluff don't go," answered Forsythe. "Will you cough up?"

"No; most decidedly _no_!" roared the officer, who might, or might not,
have been the captain.

"Kelly," said Forsythe, "send that Whitehead straight into him."

Whitehead torpedoes, be it known, are mechanical fish of machined steel,
self-propelling and self-steering, actuated by a small air engine, and
carrying in their "war heads" a charge of over two hundred pounds of
guncotton, and in their blunt noses a detonating cap to explode it on
contact.

At Forsythe's word, Kelly turned a lever on the tube, and the contained
torpedo dived gently overboard.

Denman, looking closely, saw it appear once on the surface,
porpoiselike, before it dived to its indicated depth.

"The inhuman devil!" he commented, with gritting teeth.

A muffled report came from the depths. A huge mound of water lifted up,
to break into shattered fragments and bubbles. Then these bubbles burst,
giving vent to clouds of brown and yellow smoke; while up through the
ventilators and out through the opened lower deadlights came more of
this smoke, and the sound of human voices, screaming and groaning. These
sounds were drowned in the buzzing of thousands of other voices on deck
as men, women, and children fought their way toward the stern.

"Do you agree?" yelled Forsythe, through the megaphone. "Do you agree,
or shall we unload every torpedo we've got into your hull?"

Old Kelly had calmly marshaled the crew to the next torpedo, and looked
up to Forsythe for the word. But it did not come.

Instead, over the buzzing of the voices, came the officer's answer, loud
and distinct:

"We agree. We understand that your necks are in the halter, and that you
have nothing to lose, even though you should fill every compartment and
drown every soul on board this ship. So we will accede to your demands.
We will fill one boat with the bullion and another with provisions, and
cast them adrift. But do not fire again, for God's sake!"

"All right," answered Forsythe. "Bear a hand."

Breast to breast, the two craft charged along, while two boats were
lowered to the level of the main deck, and swiftered in to the rail.
Sailors appeared from the doors in pairs, each carrying a box that taxed
their strength and made them stagger. There were ten in all, and the