hrooms astern,
inhumanly disposed of in a tub, the silent form of Captain Brandon. But
the tough little bulldog of an Englishman was by no means dead, and when
some three days later the ghost of what had been the _Nevski_ steamed
out of the bay of Tramoieu, he was already so far recovered from the
terrible blow that had laid him low, but which had, nevertheless, failed
to shatter his hard skull, as to be engaged in a confused but constant
effort to remember. On the following morning he insisted upon getting
up, and was helped afterward by a steward to the bridge.

Maclean greeted him with a genial smile.

"Well done, sir," he cried heartily. "Glad to see you up again and
looking so fit. The old _Saigon_ has been as dull as a coffin-ship
without you."

Captain Brandon nodded, frowned, and glanced around him. A carpenter
close by was busily at work painting _S.S. Saigon_ upon a row of
virgin-white life buoys. The captain wondered and glanced up at the
masts. They were just ordinary masts in the sense that they had no
fighting tops, but they gleamed with wet paint. He frowned again, and,
wondering more and more, looked forward. There was not the slightest
trace of a cannon to be seen--but the deck in one place had a canvas
covering. He began to crack his fingers, his old habit, but a moment
later he abruptly turned and faced the mate.

"Maclean," said he.

The eyes of the two men met.

"This is not the _Saigon_, Maclean," said Captain Brandon.

"You'll see it in iron letters on her bows, sir, if you look."

"Come into the chart-room."

Maclean obeyed, chuckling under his breath.

"Tell me how you did it," commanded the captain as he took a chair.

"It was as easy as rolling off a log, sir," replied the first mate. "The
blighters clapped us into the small after-hold, but totally forgot there
was such a thing there as a propeller tunnel. We got into the stoke-hole
and collared the engine-room while the Russians were at dinner. Then,
while I covered the sailors forward with the machine-gun on the bridge,
Sievers took the gold-laced crowd aft with a rush. The rest is not worth
telling, for you know it. All that is to say, barring the fact that
we're the richer by 15,000 rubles and triple-expansion engines, and the
poorer by two of our crew the Russian captain killed."

Captain Brandon drew a deep breath.

"What course are we steering," he demanded.

"Straight for Kobe, sir, to carry out our charter. We've ever