In another moment the searchlight—for it was a searchlight—had passed and it was dark again. Jaffa and Wiggins fired half a dozen rounds very rapidly; the bullets did not come for’ard, so probably they were firing in the air; they yelled, too, and back the searchlight swept and remained, whilst a small shell, bursting with a roar close to the bows, threw up a column of fire and water. In a second those Arabs had dropped on their knees, crouching below the gunwales and hiding from the glare of the light—all except the nakhoda, who, yelling something like "Allah", rushed at me with a long knife. He would have stuck it into me had not the others thrown themselves on him and pulled him to the deck. As they did so Jaffa and Wiggins, shouting and cursing, rushed forward. In a minute I was free, Dobson was free. Wiggins had cut the ropes, whilst Jaffa stood guard over the Arabs, and as I staggered to the deck, bleeding like a pig again, a boat rasped alongside, and Popple Opstein’s great red face appeared as he climbed over the gunwale, followed by half a dozen men. "Four more! They’ve got four more—or is it three?" was all I could think of to say as he came for’ard. I had to sit down to prevent my legs giving way. "Thank God you came along in time!" I said, as he shook some sense into me and gave me something to drink. I was all right again in a few minutes, and whilst the Arabs were being securely tied up, to prevent any unpleasant mistakes, I was able to tell him what had happened. "What about your edge of civilization, Martin, old chap?" he laughed. "You nearly toppled over the edge of it that time, eh? We spotted you in the moonlight, and saw the revolver flashes, so knew something was wrong. We never thought it was you." "Man, she’s full of rifles. I’m dead certain she is," I burst out, "and I haven’t been out here ten days! Isn’t it splendid?" "You don’t look very splendid," my chum smiled grimly. "The sooner you get on board to our doctor the better." I really felt almost intoxicated. I could not stop talking. "Look at that one-eyed interpreter of mine," I babbled, turning to Jaffa, who was leaning up against the gunwale cleaning his Mauser pistol. "Look at him! He saved the whole show. He’s simply grand with that pistol of his. Aren’t you, Jaffa?" He smiled his inscrutable, dignified smile. "You saved all our lives. We should not have pulled through without you," I went on, and for the life of me I do not know whether he looked pleased or not. The _Intrepid’s_ men were going round collecting the knives which the Arabs had dropped on deck. Dobson and I found our revolvers. For the life of me I could not keep silent. "How many cartridges are there in yours?" I asked him, opening my breech. "There are only two in mine." "Not a blessed one, sir!" he grinned; so, after all, I had miscounted. "How many have you?" I asked Wiggins.