for the junk herself. She must be settled, or there
will be no safety for us."

I made my way down to the main-deck again, very nearly tumbling head
over heels over Mrs Vansittart and her daughter, whom I found seated
upon the stairs of the companion way. I paused just long enough to
explain the situation to them, and then rushed out on deck in time to
see the last boat, submerged to her gunwale, slowly roll over and go
down bows first, leaving a few forms feebly struggling on the surface.

The junk was by this time completely becalmed and had lost her way;
nevertheless she maintained a fairly steady fire upon us, and some of
her shot came so unpleasantly close that I thought it well to order
Julius down off the poop, where he could be of no further use. I got to
work with the main-deck guns again, and, possibly because I could take
all the time I pleased over the aiming, did some very neat shooting. I
fired six shells in all at the junk, every one of which but the first
went home--three of them close to her water-line.

They were destructive missiles, those shells, bursting as they hit and
blowing great holes in the junk's sides; and it soon became apparent
that the vessel was sinking rapidly. I therefore ceased firing and went
up on to the poop to see the last of her. But she died game, for her
crew maintained a steady fire upon us until she foundered, her last shot
being fired at the very moment when she was plunging stern first beneath
the waves. And by an unlucky chance that last shot came slap aboard the
wreck, struck the teak poop rail within a foot of where I stood, and
scattered a number of splinters, one of which, a heavy one, caught me in
the side of the head, very nearly scalped me, and sent me reeling to the
deck senseless.

I recovered consciousness slowly, my first sensation being that the top
of my head seemed to be on fire. Then I became aware that I was being
partially supported by somebody's knee behind my shoulders, and that my
head was being bathed. Finally I opened my eyes, to find Mrs
Vansittart bending over me with a sponge in her hand, which she was just
withdrawing from a basin of bloodstained water, while the boy Julius
supported me in a semi-recumbent position as I lay on the deck.

"Ah, that is better!" exclaimed Mrs Vansittart, as she bent over me.
"He is coming to himself. Lizette," raising her voice; "hurry with that
brandy. Is your head very painful, Walter?"

"It feels