had
become a place of desolation. All the magnificence of unrestricted cost
was there; and all the beauty of artistic selection; and over all was
the mark of the beast--blood and torn hangings, corpses and splintered
panels, chaos and sulfur smoke as the pillage started. Dolores sought
out through the smoke a breathing man in the uniform of the yacht, and
swiftly placed her lips to his ear, her mind made up to a terrible
expedient to save this vessel for herself.

"Tell me quickly--where is the magazine?"

The man opened his agonized eyes, saw that splendid blazing face close
to his own, and shook his head loyally. He would give his master's
enemies no assistance.

"Speak, fool!" she hissed, shaking him. They were alone by the great
table-leg on the red-stained carpet. "I would defeat these sharks! Where
is the powder?"

The man looked into her eyes again, and she smiled at him. It was
enough. He weakly pointed to a stout door on the starboard side, forward
of the sailing master's stateroom door, beyond which the sound of axes
already resounded. The owner's and guests' quarters were filled to
overflowing with ravenous wolves tearing and ripping in a frenzy of
pillage. At the after-end of the saloon a pirate stood over a great
cask, issuing jugs of liquor to such of his fellows as found time amid
the riot to drink. Milo gripped his handspike, waiting for a command
that should send him like awful Fate into the thick of the murderous
mob.

"Milo! Bring me a powder-keg from that magazine!" Dolores said, still
crouching low and hidden beneath the smoke-pall. The giant entered the
room, shattering the lock with a lunge of his shoulder, and returned
bearing an unopened keg of cannon powder.

"Place it upon the table." Then the girl rose to her feet with eyes
glittering coldly and lips pressed to a tight line. "Find me a lighted
brand--swiftly!" she said, and when the giant snatched up a splinter of
dry wood, lighting it at the steward's brazier in the little pantry off
the saloon, she swept majestically aft to suddenly confront the roaring
ruffian at the wine cask.

"Milo, hurl this liquor cask away!"

Milo picked up the heavy barrel as a man might pick up a cushion, heaved
it above his head, and flung it like a cannon-shot at the door, behind
which rang the greatest noise, while the pirate, whose care the wine had
been, gaped like a stranded fish.

"Now this dog!"

The man followed his cask before his mouth clos