ing of defence. I swept his guard aside, and struck him
violently on the neck close to the ear. I was a trained boxer; but I had
never before struck a blow in earnest, or in such earnest, and I hardly
knew my own strength. The man went down with a grunt like a pole-axed
ox, and lay where he fell. To a drunken sailor lad, who seemed anxious
to be included in this matter, I dealt a stinging smack on the face
with my open hand that satisfied him straightway. The others did not
molest me. Turning from the crowd, I found Edith Metford looking at me
with blazing eyes.

"Superb! Marcel, I am proud of you!" she cried.

"Oh! Edith, how can you say that?" Natalie Brande exclaimed, still
trembling. "Such dreadful violence! The poor men knew no better."

"Poor fiddlesticks! It is well for you that Marcel is a man of violence.
He's worth a dozen sheep like--"

"Like whom, Miss Metford?" Rockingham asked, glaring at her so viciously
that I interposed with a hasty entreaty that all should hurry to the
ship. I did not trust the man.

Miss Metford was not so easily suppressed. She said leisurely, "I meant
to say like you, and this over-nervous but otherwise admirable boy. If
you think 'sheep' derogatory, pray make it 'goats.'"

I hurried them on board. Brande welcomed us at the gangway. The vessel
was his own, so he was as much at home on the ship as in his country
house. I had an important letter to write, and very little time for the
task. It was not finished a moment too soon, for the moment the last
passenger and the last bale of luggage was on board, the captain's
telegraph rang from the bridge, and the _Esmeralda_ steamed out to sea.
My letter, however, was safe on shore. The land was low down upon the
horizon before the long summer twilight deepened slowly into night. Then
one by one the shadowy cliffs grew dim, dark, and disappeared. We saw no
more of England until after many days of gradually culminating horror.
The very night which was our first at sea did not pass without a strange
adventure, which happened, indeed, by an innocent oversight.

CHAPTER XI.

MORITURI TE SALUTANT.

We had been sitting on deck chairs smoking and talking for a couple of
hours after the late dinner, which was served as soon as the vessel was
well out to sea, when Brande came on deck. He was hailed with
enthusiasm. This did not move him, or even interest him. I was careful
not to join in the acclamations produced by his presence. He