“Is that so?” yelled the baron. “Well, we will go into the air along with the ship, my American wife and myself. My estates are all gone. The Queen of Diamonds has seized them and given them to the Jack of Spades. This earth has nothing more for me, and we will take now a trip to the stars above.” The officer comprehended the situation in an instant. “He has the jimjams, sure enough,” he muttered, “Best way is to humor him.” “All right, baron,” said he, in a conciliatory tone. “But you don’t want your wife to go with you, you know. Open the door and let her come with us.” “Ah, no!” said the maniac. “The Baroness Von Eulaw will go to heaven along with her dear husband, that she loves so much, so much!” “Madam,” said the officer, “can you not unlock the door? If not, I will have it broken down.” “No,” shrieked the baron, “she cannot unlock the door, for I have thrown the key into the sea through the window, and if anybody makes any trouble with the door, I have a little pistol, and I will shoot first my beloved American wife, and then the man at the door, and at last myself, and we will all go to the skies in one trip.” “Madame,” said the officer, “is he armed?” “He is, and will, I fear, do as he threatens,” replied Ellen, with trembling voice. “The situation is serious,” said the officer. “The torpedoes won’t wait for us, and the crew will be getting nervous. In fact, I am nervous myself,” added the officer, _sotto voce_. “Suppose one of those infernal machines should go off ahead of time?” “Leave us, sir,” said the baroness. “If I can get the pistol from him by persuasion, I will discharge it as a signal, and you can then break down the door. If I cannot do this, you must save yourselves without us. It would be useless for you to jeopardize your lives for us, for he will surely kill me, and will probably shoot you if you attempt to force the door now.” “What is the matter there aft, Mr. Morton?” shouted the captain. “Dutch baron crazy drunk, sir. Has locked the door, and swears he will be blown up with the ship. Has a pistol, and will kill his wife if we try to force the door, sir.” “Get a rifle, Mr. Morton, and stand ready to shoot him through the skylight. But I will first signal the _Siva_ for orders.” “_Aye_, aye, sir,” said the first officer cheerily. “Something wrong on board the _Esmeralda_, sir; she is signaling us,” said the first officer of the _Siva_ to the captain. Morning, who was conversing with a Russian admiral, overheard the speaker and came forward to where the signal officer—the code spread before him—had just answered, “Ready to receive signal.” The little scarlet flag in the hand of the signal officer on the foretop gallant yard of the _Esmeralda_ rapidly spelled out the message.