plosion of a magazine of melinite or
dynamite, Back Cup Island trembles to its very foundations.

The cruiser has disappeared,--blown to pieces. The effect is that of
the Zalinski shell, but centupled by the infinite power of Roch's
fulgurator.

What shouts the bandits raise as they rush towards the extremity of
the point! Ker Karraje, Engineer Serko, and Captain Spade remain
rooted to the spot, hardly able to credit the evidence of their own
eyes.

As to Thomas Roch, he stands with folded arms, and flashing eyes, his
face radiant with pride and triumph.

I understand, while I abhor his feelings.

If the other warships approach they will share the same fate as the
cruiser. They will inevitably be destroyed. Oh! if they would but give
up the struggle and withdraw to safety, even though my last hope would
go with them! The nations can consult and arrive at some other plan
for destroying the island. They can surround the place with a belt of
ships that the pirates cannot break through and starve them to death
like so many rats in a hole.

But I know that the warships will not retire, even though they know
they are going to certain death. One after the other they will all
make the attempt.

And I am right. Signals are exchanged between them. Almost immediately
clouds of black smoke arise and the vessels again advance.

One of them, under forced draught, distances the others in her anxiety
to bring her big guns quickly into action.

At all risks I issue from my hole, and gaze at the on-coming warship
with feverish eyes, awaiting, without being able to prevent it,
another catastrophe.

This vessel, which visibly grows larger as it comes nearer, is a
cruiser of about the same tonnage as the one that preceded her. No
flag is flying and I cannot guess her nationality. She continues
steaming at full speed in an effort to pass the zone of danger before
other engines can be launched. But how can she escape them since they
will swoop back upon her?

Thomas Roch places himself behind the second trestle as the cruiser
passes on to the surface of the abysm in which she will in turn soon
be swallowed up.

No sound disturbs the stillness.

Suddenly the rolling of drums and the blare of bugles is heard on
board the warship.

I know those bugle calls: they are French bugles! Great God! She is
one of the ships of my own country's navy and a French inventor is
about to destroy her!

No! it shall not be. I will rush towa