“I don't care if they do. I'd like to advertise it to the whole world. I'm proud of the fact that I love you; and you don't care enough about it to realize how really hard I'm hit--why I'd die for you, Barbara, and welcome the chance; why--My God! What's that?” “O Billy! What are those men doing?” cried the girl. “They're shooting. They're shooting at papa! Quick, Billy! Do something. For heaven's sake do something.” On the deck below them the “rescued” crew of the “Clarinda” had surrounded Mr. Harding, Captain Norris, and most of the crew of the Lotus, flashing quick-drawn revolvers from beneath shirts and coats, and firing at two of the yacht's men who showed fight. “Keep quiet,” commanded Skipper Simms, “an' there won't none of you get hurted.” “What do you want of us?” cried Mr. Harding. “If it's money, take what you can find aboard us, and go on your way. No one will hinder you.” Skipper Simms paid no attention to him. His eyes swept aloft to the upper deck. There he saw a wide-eyed girl and a man looking down upon them. He wondered if she was the one they sought. There were other women aboard. He could see them, huddled frightened behind Harding and Norris. Some of them were young and beautiful; but there was something about the girl above him that assured him she could be none other than Barbara Harding. To discover the truth Simms resorted to a ruse, for he knew that were he to ask Harding outright if the girl were his daughter the chances were more than even that the old man would suspect something of the nature of their visit and deny her identity. “Who is that woman you have on board here?” he cried in an accusing tone of voice. “That's what we're a-here to find out.” “Why she's my daughter, man!” blurted Harding. “Who did you--” “Thanks,” said Skipper Simms, with a self-satisfied grin. “That's what I wanted to be sure of. Hey, you, Byrne! You're nearest the companionway--fetch the girl.” At the command the mucker turned and leaped up the stairway to the upper deck. Billy Mallory had overheard the conversation below and Simms' command to Byrne. Disengaging himself from Barbara Harding who in her terror had clutched his arm, he ran forward to the head of the stairway. The men of the Lotus looked on in mute and helpless rage. All were covered by the guns of the boarding party--the still forms of two of their companions bearing eloquent witness to the slenderness of provocation necessary to tighten the trigger fingers of the beasts standing guard over them.