“If the police come for us openly, we must yield,” he finished. “But Miss Fitzhugh says they will not come openly. She says they will come as pirates, thieves, murderers. If they do, we must fight for our lives. We’re armed and----” “We’ll do it! I’ll give orders.” The captain was gone with the words trailing over his shoulders. The _Sea Spume_ had been bought and fitted out as a dispatch boat by the United States Government at the breaking out of the Spanish war. At its close, she had been sold, guns and all, to the highest bidder; since then she had changed hands once or twice, but none of her owners had dismantled her. Finally Caruth, who had served on her during the war with other boy members of the Naval Militia, had bought her and had brought her up almost to a man-of-war pitch. When he had started for Russia, he had needed to add only a little ammunition to put the yacht in condition to cope with anything of her tonnage. This armament was now to stand the adventurers in good stead. Caruth, watching from the bridge, saw the wave of excitement ripple along the vessel at the captain’s low-spoken commands; saw the tarpaulins jerked from the guns, revealing the long black muzzles of the six-pound rapid-firers; heard the splutter of the search-light as the men tested its connection, and the rattle of the hoists as the fixed ammunition, cartridge-like in ease of handling, was brought upon the deck. Suddenly all lights went out, and the _Sea Spume_ became only a darker spot in the opaque blackness of the night. Simultaneously fell silence, profound and tomblike! Ghost-like, Captain Wilson mounted the bridge. “Everything’s ready,” he reported in scarcely audible tones. “If anybody comes for us now, they’ll get a warm reception. The men are crazy for a scrap.” “Good! This means double pay all round, Captain. You might pass the word. I’m going to the cabin now to find out what news there is from the divers. Miss Fitzhugh is at the telephone.” But Caruth was not to go to the telephone then. As his foot poised above the first step of the companionway, from the bows a shrill challenge came. “Boat ahoy! Boat ahoy! What boat is that?” No answer came. But out in the darkness a voice uplifted itself in short but swift command, intelligible by its tone if not by its syllables. Unseen men responded with an eager cheer, followed by a splash of oars in the water. “The search-light! Quick!” shouted Captain Wilson, and at the word the electric sword glimmered through the darkness, illuminating the black water, and illuminating too, a score of boats, loaded with men, dashing upon the yacht. Small time was there for parley. “Aim! Fire!” yelled the captain; and the flames of the guns split the darkness, while their thunders echoed back from the cliffs that towered close beside.