of his
reflections. "We'll have to take this boat from the Russians somehow."

But exhausted nature would not be denied, and before he knew it Maclean
was in the land of dreams. He was awakened by the noisy removal of a
portion of the hatch. He looked up and saw the moon, also a couple of
bearded faces looking down at him.

"Good Lord!" he groaned, "I've slept the day out."

"You hingry--men--like--eat?" observed a hoarse voice. And Maclean saw
an immense steaming pan descending toward him on a line. He caught it
deftly. A can of water and a tin of biscuits followed. He was instantly
surrounded by the _Saigon's_ company, who attacked the contents of the
pan like wolves. He seized a lump of fat meat from the mess, also a
couple of biscuits, and retired apart. The darkness renewed itself a
second later, and for some time the hold buzzed with the noise of
crunching jaws and guttural exclamations.

Of a sudden someone near him struck a match, and Maclean looked over the
flame into the eyes of Robert Sievers, the _Saigon's_ chief engineer.

"Hello, Mac," said Sievers.

"Good evening, Sievers," replied Maclean politely. "We're still at
anchor."

"I've remarked it. What do you suppose they intend to do with us?"

"Maroon us, likely, if we let them, on the island yonder."

"How can we prevent them? But I think not. It's my belief this meat is
poisoned!"

"Tastes vile enough," agreed Maclean, but he went on eating, and Robert
Sievers, after a momentary hesitation, followed suit.

"We're in the devil of a hole!" he muttered, his mouth full of biscuit.
Then he swore horribly, for the match had burned his fingers.

Maclean stood up. "Any of you men happen to have a bit of candle in your
pockets?" he demanded.

Silence for a minute, then a Norwegian fireman spoke up. "Bout dree
inches," he said.

"He eats 'em," cried another voice, and a roar of laughter greeted the
announcement.

"Pass it here," commanded Maclean.

Sievers struck another match, and presently the steady flame of a candle
stump showed Maclean a picture such as Gustave Dore would have loved to
paint. He glanced at the begrimed faces of the _Saigon's_ wild and
ghastly looking company, and beyond them for a moment, then stumbled
over the coal, followed by Sievers, until he was brought up by the iron
partition of the hold. He made, however, straight for the bulkhead, and
stooping down, held the candle close to the line of bolts covering the
propeller