s said. "And we carn't fire back at the portholes
because of the lady!"

"Righto! But the man at their wheel's our meat, and anyone else who
comes to take his place. Minus a steersman they're helpless; and then,
Gates, if we can run alongside and batten down (is that what you call
it?) their hatches, they're ours."

"Suppose they send the Princess out, herself, to steer?" Monsieur asked.

The suggestion gave me a turn.

"Still, they may not think of that," he continued, "and our two shooters
may command their decks quite easily. It is good. If a man comes out to
steer you will shoot him till he runs downstairs again, then we go
aboard and sail home. Yes, it is a good plan."

"Shoot him till he runs downstairs!" Tommy gasped. "What d'you think
we're going to do--just spank him with lead?"

"I'll say that professor is in a clarss by himself, sir," Gates turned
to me, chuckling.

The next half hour was a busy one. Our sailors, singing with happiness,
brought up from the cuddy rolls of extra sails that were lowered
overboard for a good wetting, then mauled into a neat rifle pit on the
cabin roof--as snug as I'd want anywhere, and quite able to stop
high-power bullets. Gates then showed another bit of generalship that
called anew for Monsieur's nods of approval. Since our own helmsman
would be as much exposed as the man on the _Orchid_--whom we intended to
"shoot until he ran downstairs"--the mate brought up some line, bent it
several times around the wheel drum, passed it through newly fastened
blocks, and let it run into the cockpit. By this arrangement he could
lie on the floor, as safe as you please, and steer according to orders
sung up by the old skipper who, stationed below with a shaving
mirror--suggesting a trench periscope--would take his bearings without
showing any portion of his face. It was a nice piece of work.

"One carn't be too cautious, sir," he explained. "Harf our chance of
coming out ahead is being ready beforehand, and harf our satisfaction is
to keep from having any burials at sea--which are gruesome things, any
way you take 'em, sir."

Bilkins had acted as armorer and laid out rifles, bandoliers bulging
with filled clips, and a few automatic revolvers; then in a low tone he
said to me:

"I'll never go back, sir, if anything happens to you today."

"Yes, you will," I replied, touched by his show of devotion. "You'll
have to tell them why it happened. But don't be a raincrow. We'll come
t