efined itself in my brain. From the remains of the _Golden Horn_
we could construct some kind of a craft in which to run free to the summer
trades. Thus we might in time reach some one or another of the Sandwich
Islands, whence a passing trader could take us back to civilisation. There
were many elements of uncertainty in the scheme, but it seemed to me less
desperate than trusting to the caprices of these men, especially since
they now had free access to the liquor stores.

While I leaned over the rail engrossed in these thoughts, one of the black
thunder clouds that had been gathering and dissipating over the island
during the entire afternoon suddenly glowed overhead with a strange white
incandescence startlingly akin to Darrow's so-called "devil fires."
Strangely enough, this illumination, unlike the volcanic glows, appeared
to be cast on the clouds from without rather than shot through them from
within, as were the other volcanic emanations. At the same instant I
experienced a sharp interior revulsion of some sort, most briefly
momentary, but of a character that shook me from head to toe.

I had no time to analyse these various impressions, however, for my
attention was almost instantly distracted. From the cabin came the sound
of a sharp fall, then a man cried out, and on the heels of it Pulz darted
from the cabin, screaming horribly. We were all on deck, and as the little
man rushed toward the stern Handy Solomon twisted him deftly from his
feet.

"My God, mate, what is it?" he cried, as he pinned the sufferer to the
deck.

But Pulz could not answer. He shivered, stiffened, and lay rigid, his eyes
rolled back.

"Fits," remarked Thrackles impatiently.

The excitement died. Rum was forced between the victim's lips. After a
little he recovered, but could tell us nothing of his seizure.

After the dishes had been swept aside from supper, Handy Solomon announced
a second attempt to open the chest.

"Pancho, here, says he's been a mechanic," said he. "I right well know
he's been a housebreaker. So he's got the _sabe_ for the job, and you can
kiss the Book on that."

Perdosa, with a grin, leaned over the cover from behind and began to pick
away at the lock with a long, crooked wire. The others drew close about. I
slipped nearer the door, imagining that in their riveted interest I saw my
opportunity. To my surprise I caught a glimpse of legs disappearing up the
companion. I took stock. Pulz had gone on deck.