mate's pocket and he was
shooting as fast as he could pull trigger, while all hands fled to
shelter. But, as he had long since told me, he was no shot and could
effectively use the weapon only at close range--muzzle to stomach
preferably.

As we stared at the main deck, deserted save for the dead cowboy on his
back and for the Faun who still sat on the hatch and coughed, an eruption
of men occurred over the for'ard edge of the 'midship-house.

"Shoot!" Margaret cried at my back.

"Don't!" Mr. Pike roared at me.

The rifle was at my shoulder when I desisted. Louis, the cook, led the
rush aft to us across the top of the house and along the bridge. Behind
him, in single file and not wasting any time, came the Japanese
sail-makers, Henry the training-ship boy, and the other boy Buckwheat.
Tom Spink brought up the rear. As he came up the ladder of the 'midship-
house somebody from beneath must have caught him by a leg in an effort to
drag him back. We saw half of him in sight and knew that he was
struggling and kicking. He fetched clear abruptly, gained the top of the
house in a surge, and raced aft along the bridge until he overtook and
collided with Buckwheat, who yelled out in fear that a mutineer had
caught him.

CHAPTER XLIII

We who are aft, besieged in the high place, are stronger in numbers than
I dreamed until now, when I have just finished taking the ship's census.
Of course Margaret, Mr. Pike, and myself are apart. We alone represent
the ruling class. With us are servants and serfs, faithful to their
salt, who look to us for guidance and life.

I use my words advisedly. Tom Spink and Buckwheat are serfs and nothing
else. Henry, the training-ship boy, occupies an anomalous
classification. He is of our kind, but he can scarcely be called even a
cadet of our kind. He will some day win to us and become a mate or a
captain, but in the meantime, of course, his past is against him. He is
a candidate, rising from the serf class to our class. Also, he is only a
youth, the iron of his heredity not yet tested and proven.

Wada, Louis, and the steward are servants of Asiatic breed. So are the
two Japanese sail-makers--scarcely servants, not to be called slaves, but
something in between.

So, all told, there are eleven of us aft in the citadel. But our
followers are too servant-like and serf-like to be offensive fighters.
They will help us defend the high place against all attack; but they a