"My orders are, every man back to his post!" cried the Master, his voice a trumpet-call of resolution. "There'll be no _sauve qui peut_, here!" He laid a hand on the butt of his pistol. "Back, every man of you!" Came another dull, jarring explosion. _Nissr_ reeled to port. The Legionaries trickled down the companion-ladders. From somewhere below a cry rose: "The aft starboard float--it's gone! And the stabilizer--" Confused sounds echoed. _Nissr_ sagged drunkenly, lost headway and slewed off her course, turning slowly in the thin, cold air. Her propellers had been shut off; all the power of her remaining engines had now been clutched into the helicopter-drive. The Master, indifferently smearing off the blood from his neck, made his way toward the forward companion. He had to hold the rail with one hand, for now the metal plates of the observation gallery were sharply canted. _Nissr_ had got wholly out of control, so far as steerage-way was concerned; but the rate of her fall seemed to have been a trifle checked. Alden and the major followed their chief to the companion. All three descended the ladder, which hung inward and away from them at a sharp angle. They reached the strangely inclined floor of the main corridor, and, bracing themselves against the port wall, worked their way aft. Not all the admirable discipline of the Legion could prevent some confusion. Such of the men as were on duty in pilot-house, pits, wireless, or engine-room were all sticking; but a number of off-duty Legionaries were crowding into the main corridor. Among them the Master saw Leclair and Rrisa. No one showed fear. The white feather was not visible; but a grim tension had developed. Death, imminent, sobers the boldest. From the engine-room, shouts, orders, were echoing. The engine-room door flung open. Smoke vomited--thick, choking, gray. Auchincloss reeled out, clutching at his throat. "What chance?" the Master cried, staggering toward him. "If--the fire spreads to the forward petrol-tanks, none!" gasped the chief engineer. "Aft pit's flooded with blazing oil. Gorlitz--my God!" "What about Gorlitz?" "Burned alive--to a crisp! I've got four extinguishers at work. Two engines out of commission. Another only limping! And--" He crumpled, suddenly, dropping to the metals. The Master saw through the clinging smoke, by the dimmed light of the frosted disks, that the skin of the engineer's face and hands was cooked to a char. "If he's breathed flame--" began the major. Alden knelt beside him, peered closely, made a significant, eloquent gesture. "Volunteers!" shouted the Master, plunging forward.