ed Jim, bearing down again, with lowered revolver, on
his enemy. "Well and good! You're going to be drowned, not shot,
after all! And now you shall speak, you scamp! Your game's up,
whatever happens. Get up and lead the way, quick, and show me in what
part of this infernal boat you are hiding Agatha Redmond."

Chatelard started toward the hatchway, followed sharply by Jim's
revolver, but at the foot of the ladder he turned his contemptuous,
sneering face toward Jim, with the remark:

"Your words are the words of a fool, you pig of an American! There is
no lady aboard this yacht, and I never so much as heard of your Agatha
Redmond. Otherwise, I'd be pleased to play Mercury to your Venus."

To Jim's ears, every syllable the Frenchman spoke was an insult, and
the last words rekindled the fire in his blood.

"You shall pay for that speech here and now!" he yelled; and,
discarding his revolver, he dealt the Frenchman a short-arm blow.
Chatelard, trying to dodge, tripped over the base of the ladder and
went down heavily on the floor of the fo'cas'le. He had apparently
lost consciousness.

As Jim saw his victim stretched on the floor, he turned away with
loathing. He picked up his revolver and went up the ladder. It was
already dark, and confusion reigned on deck. But through the clamor,
Jim made out something near the truth: the _Jeanne D'Arc_ was leaking
badly, and no time was to be lost if she, with her passengers and crew,
were to be saved.

CHAPTER VII

THE ROPE LADDER

The near prospect of a conclusive struggle for life is a sharp tonic to
the adventurous soul. The actual final summons to that Other Room is
met variously. There is Earthly Dignity, who answers even this last
tap at the door with a fitting and quotable rejoinder; there is
Deathbed Repentance, whose unction _in momento mortis_ is doubtless a
comfort to pious relatives; and there are Chivalry and Valor, twin
youths who go to the unknown banquet singing and bearing their garlands
of joy.

But with the chance of a fight for life, there is a sharp-sweet tang
that sends some spirits galloping to the contest. "Dauntless the
slughorn to his lips he set--" making ready for the last good run.

When Jim descended the hatchway after reconnoitering on deck, Chatelard
was gone. The ship's cook was rummaging in a sailor's kit that he had
drawn from a locker. Jim mentally considered the situation. The
seamen had no doubt exaggerated the