Down the left side of Henshaw, bright against the white of his coat, was a rapidly growing stain of red. They could see the small slit in the cloth where a knife thrust had entered his side, but the old buccaneer would give no sign of his injury. He waved his gun toward Kate as she advanced an impulsive step toward him. "Keep back!" he commanded. "Woman and man, I trust none of you. Give me distance or I'll use this bullet on the first of you and give what's left of me to the sea." "By the Lord, he's wounded!" cried Harrigan. "Steady, old heart of oak, you've nothing to fear from us. Hovey! Oh-h, Hovey, we'll see you damned before we give up the captain!" The bos'n, choking with his fury, shook his clenched fist at them and disappeared into the cabin. "Now lie down," said McTee to the captain, "and we'll fix you up. Are you badly hurt?" "Enough to finish me," said Henshaw calmly, "but keep off! I'll have none of you! None of your tricks!" His old body was trembling with the pain of his wound, but the hand which held the gun leveled on McTee was as steady as a rock. Kate pushed McTee aside and turned a glance of scorn on the others. "You'd let him die among you--for fear of an old man and his wretched revolver?" She faced Henshaw. "Go into the wireless house, Captain Henshaw, and I will go in alone with you. If you don't trust me, you can keep your revolver at my breast while I dress your wound--but see!--you will bleed to death in a short time!" He laughed again, saying: "Girl, there's nothing between heaven and hell that can make me die by anything but fire--fire at sea--blue fire." She whitened at sight of his frenzied, yellow face, and then she saw Harrigan slipping around to take the captain from the rear. He saw the shadow of the Irishman just too late, and whirled with a curse at the same time that Harrigan's iron hand seized the gun. For an instant he struggled, but those mighty arms gathered him as easily as a woman lifts a stubborn child, and he was carried into the wireless house and placed on Sloan's bunk. As soon as he discovered that he was helpless in their hands, he ceased struggling and lay without a motion while they tore away his coat and shirt and Kate started to dress the deep, ugly wound. She had scarcely finished when a shout, or rather a scream, from fifty throats brought them running out of the wireless house. Again and again that cry was repeated from the main cabin, and they could not tell whether it was despair or agony that inspired it.