She stood inert, her mind and body things apart. She could not bring herself into accord with the too obtrusive fact, and wondered aimlessly that her ear caught at the cries of the complaining timbers and rush of water alongside, rather than at the vortex of her life’s tragedy which whirled just at her elbow. And thus, in a merciful tempering of her spirit to the occasion she hung swaying to the ladder, her mind gaining a cool and purposeful self-possession which was to nerve her frail body to further efforts. If monsieur were dead, then she had but to die also. She knew that she must keep her strength, for if she lost consciousness they would come below and find her; and when she awoke--alive and alone upon this horrible ship-- The thought gave a new life to her energies, and she determined to put an end at once to the uncertainty. Anything were better than the suspense which each moment made the danger of weakness more imminent. Step by step she crept up the staggering ladder until her head had reached the level of the hatch above. Then she pushed aside the covering, and, the pistolet in her nerveless fingers, peered forth upon deck. Joy gave her new strength and energy. There against the bulwarks, pale and breathless, but erect and strong, with the light of battle still undiminished in his eyes, was Bras-de-Fer; while around him in a wide, snarling circle were a dozen of the wolves of the _Saucy Sally_, ready to spring in upon him, and yet each fearful to be the first to bite. There was a smell of rum in the air, and a broken cask told a part of the cause of the difficulty. Upon the deck curious loose distortions made a ghastly parody of the flesh which they had been. All these things she noted in a glance, but her eyes fell instinctively upon the figure of a tall man, the one who had lighted her below, who was brandishing his arms, not at monsieur, but towards a stout man in baggy breeches, who stood defiantly blinking at him, raising first a pistol and then a sword towards Bras-de-Fer in a manner not to be misinterpreted. Here was the key to the situation. He was not then quite alone. But as she looked a thrill of horror came over her. Two men fell upon the tall man from behind and seized his arms. Then the fat man leaned forward towards monsieur, with an oily, vicious smile. He said nothing at all, but, keeping his sword in front of him, with his left hand, slowly and with a grim deliberation, raised his pistol into a line. Barbara’s wild cry rang from one end of the deck to the other. Regardless of her own danger and scarce responsible, she was flying across the intervening space towards Yan Gratz. The startled Dutchman, disconcerted for a moment by this unfamiliar sound, turned, his mouth agape, his pistol pointing purposeless at the empty air. “_Stop!_” she cried, supremely imperious, yet affrighted at the sound of her own voice. “_Stop! You must not! I command you!_”