The German dock foreman uttered a shrill whistle. It was answered in a moment and a figure joined him hurriedly. "Wait until I'm off the dock and safe. Then cut the hawsers." It was the foreman who spoke and the other nodded. His huge figure disappeared down the length of a warehouse. The man he had left reached for an axe which lay on a pile of boxes. There was no sound except a straining and creaking as he hacked at the hawsers of the _Arsulus_. Grant and his men inside the hatchway were beating at the door in an effort to break it open. Suddenly they felt the movement of the vessel as it listed sharply. They heard the clattering and crashing of trucks, benches and tools falling from their places sliding over the floor of the hold. The vessel trembled as the last hawser parted and with a sudden lurch the _Arsulus_ capsized, carrying with her to what seemed certain death the four members of the Criminology Club. Perhaps to death, but a death they would fight to the last! Boxes and bales tumbled and crashed about. A porthole on the underside burst under the pressure of water and a geyserlike stream spouted up. The men knew that the water was flowing in, that it was only a matter of a short time before the vessel would be submerged and that to the chill shadows of the hold would be added the shadow of death! Scrambling from one box to another they eluded the ever-rising wave of water. At last they had reached the highest point of vantage they could find. And for a short time at least the waters seemed at a standstill. Above them was the cold steel side of the vessel. Below them the churn and rush of water. While Harrison Grant and his friends fought for their lives in the hold of the wrecked _Arsulus_, the conference at the Headquarters of the Union proceeded. Order was being formulated out of chaos, the 'longshoremen's demands were being gathered into shape, and it seemed that a settlement agreeable to all was about to be reached. Suddenly the telephone on the table jangled. One of the Union officials answered it, then turned it over to the Chairman of the Shipowners Committee. "It's for you." There was a moment's silence while he fumbled with the receiver, his greeting, and then another silence while the voice of the speaker at the other end of the line came to their ears in squeaky accents. As they watched him, the Chairman's face hardened. "Here, say that over again. No! Well they've reached the limit. This means the end." The receiver banged into its socket and the chairman faced the group of tense men at the table.