Landon leaped to his feet with a curse. He seized an oar; he thrust with all his strength at the mud. And at the same moment the two on the shore, struggling in their captor's hands, let fall the painter. The boat shot out stern foremost into deep water. From the shore came the sound of a struggle and then Muhammed's voice, shrill in explanation. "_Signori! Signori!_ I am not a contrabandist! I am a tourist; I can prove it; I wish to offer no resistance; I place myself in your hands, freely." There was a grim laugh, and then the yellow beam of light which had been withdrawn while the struggle proceeded, flung out its level rays again and illuminated the boat. "Surrender, Luigi!" shouted a stern voice. There was another click. "Surrender, _stupido_! I have you covered; I give you five seconds before I fire!" The shrill voice of the captured sailor reinforced the argument. "It is over--finished," he shouted pessimistically. "It is _Pinale_; there is nothing more to be done!" Luigi groaned and then flung up his hands. "I give in!" he cried, and burst into a storm of hysterical sobs. "It means Procida--this," he wept. "It means years in chains; it means half the rest of my life snatched from me." He turned and smote at Landon in the darkness. "I owe it to you, tempter!" he yelled. "Accursed of God, you led me into this!" Landon stumbled in his surprise and then leaped at him like a cat. There was a shrill scream from the child as the swaying pair rolled down upon the stern sheets, gripping, each of them, for the other's throat. The boat rocked violently. Again the stern command from the shore rang into the night. They gave it no heed. Animal rage possessed them; they were no longer men but beasts, fighting with hand and foot and knee, clawing, tearing, even biting as the chance of conflict brought Luigi's lips within reach of his assailant's cheek. They were lost to all human warning or control. It was no human interference which separated them. Fate played her hand--played it irresistibly, crushingly, played it with a vindictive completeness such as even she has never used since her grip fell upon her plaything--that toy of hers among a million million toys, and which we call our world. A roar, terrific, growing, menacing, filling the echoes, brimming the heavy air, rolling out across the still waters of the bay, thundered into the silence of the shore. The dim lamps upon the Marina shook; crash upon crash echoed from buildings which could not be seen, but which terror could picture in all the crude pigments of imagination and despair! Beside the boat a huge crack rent the jetty in twain. Stones, dashed from the crumbling buildings in the darkness, flung huge gouts of spray over the two who wrenched themselves apart in her stern, over their prisoners, over the child, who cried aloud in all the agony of childish fear.