"The British would have arrived here before you, as you are well aware, had not trading vessels, which I have under charter, at gravest risk drawn you away from certain wreck." Billings raised his eyebrows. "Commodore, in plain words, you are engaged in a piece of filibustering. The United States is not back of such a movement as this." The Commodore paced away savagely, then turned. "Colonel Mendoza, possession is nine points of law, and I have possession. Demonstrate a better right than mine; and maintain it, if you can!" The Spaniard, stooping, raised a heavy trapdoor. He threw it back. Iron-barred windows lighted a chamber beneath. Mounds of powder were heaped around everywhere. "Commodore Billings, we are standing over the powder-magazine of this fort." "So I perceive, Señor Mendoza." The señor looked coolly at the other. "Well, perceive this." From his pocket he drew a taper, used for lighting cigaritos, ignited it and held it up. "Man, what are you about? Put out that fire!" "Ah! Stand near--not too close. Now, look at that black sand." Billings's mouth shut hard. "In that sand, Commodore, there is power enough pent up to blow your marines to atoms, if I drop this tiny piece of flame. You and I--well, Commodore Billings, it is not necessary to consider ourselves." Mendoza held the taper between thumb and forefinger. Two paces distant, across the aperture in the floor, the Commodore stood, his hand resting on a pistol which he did not draw. "Shoot, Señor Billings," Mendoza said quietly, still holding the taper over the powder. Billings's hand dropped from the pistol to his side. "Then, cry aloud for help, my señor." "Mendoza, what are you about?" hoarsely asked the Commodore. "What do you want?" "That you leave Monterey." Billings's teeth ground together. "Never!" "Never?" glancing at the taper. "It would not be the first house you have blown up." "But it would be the last, my Commodore." Mendoza seemed to grow in stature, to become colossal, terrible. "This taper burns low. I have not another." Billings's form relaxed. "Your province is not worth a quarter thousand lives." "So, you decide, Señor Billings. Well, open that window, then, and order your men to the ships." "I shall not. What a diabolical advantage for you to take, Mendoza!" "Nothing of the sort. I merely insist on the preservation of the rights of this province. You proclaim your intention of violating these rights, notwithstanding O'Donnell's pledged words." The flame pointed its unsteady way higher. "One minute more you have, Commodore Billings." Slowly Mendoza turned his hand. The taper slipped a little through his fingers. "Now, Señor Billings, or----" The Commodore's voice shouted to his marines. His lips were framing a call for help. The taper moved downward a little farther. "Commodore Billings, you thus cast the die? One--two--" a significant pause. The Commodore's hollow voice ordered his men to the ships.