"Can't we?" he cried. "If you think I'm going to leave that hulking brute in charge of the ship you were never more mistaken in your life. Who'll come with me?" Silence! Who, indeed, would board that vessel and face heaven knew what horrible peril? "Listen to me, Gran'pa. . . ." "Very well!" he snapped. "I'll go myself! _I_'m not afraid! . . . Come alongside. . . . That's right!" In spite of our remonstrances and arguments, Gran'pa clambered into our boat, turned Captain Morgan and Molly out into the other one, and ordered the crew to take them ashore at once. A couple of minutes later, Croft and Gran'pa and I were staring up at the dark hull of "The Pilgrim Father"--surely one of the most strangely manned vessels which ever rode the seas. For all we knew to the contrary, its crew consisted solely of over twenty escaped gorillas--lying in wait, watching, scheming. The first human being to board such a ship might be torn to pieces in an instant, and yet-- "Keep the damned boat still, George!" whispered Gran'pa, hoarsely. "I can see something. . . ." So could I. The vessel was filled with weird, fantastic shapes, every one of which might be a gorilla. Some of them seemed to move like stealthy ghosts in a phantom world; some were statuesque, corpselike; and all rose and fell with the gentle sway of the ocean. But there was not a sound anywhere, save the lap, lap of the water against the ship's side. From a solitary port-hole came the gleam of a light which only intensified the surrounding darkness, whilst on deck a lantern flickered and then went out. It was the spectre-like quality of the scene which made it so gruesome and unnerving. One felt afraid not so much of gorillas as of--_Things_. . . . Only a man like Gran'pa--driven to desperation by an exaggerated sense of danger to something he valued--would have dared to face such unknown, terrifying perils. But he never hesitated for one moment. Unable to locate anything at which we could fire with the certainty that it was a gorilla, Gran'pa insisted on our rowing round to the bows, where he removed his boots, swarmed up the anchor chain, and dropped silently aboard. Conscious of the intensely dramatic aspect of the situation, Croft and I backwatered our boat a dozen yards or so, and waited. We saw Gran'pa creep along, in a crouching attitude, until he reached a dense, black shadow, where he suddenly vanished, as if he had dropped to his hands and knees. A second later something moved on the captain's bridge. "See that?" I whispered to Croft. "It couldn't possibly be Gran'pa. Shall we fire?" "No! There's a chance that it might be he--he's so quick! Shout, instead!" "_Look on the bridge!_" we cried, as in one voice. The words of warning had hardly left our lips when a little red spurt of flame leaped out of the darkness, a crash rent the still air and a shrill yell of pain told us immediately that the bullet had found its mark.