er, then, if authority was cast to the winds now that capture
seemed to be unavoidable. Coke tried to still the tumult by thundering
a command to Norrie, second engineer, to throw open the throttle valve.
He took the wheel in person, meaning to shape a course due east, and
thus endeavor to avoid the cruiser's baleful glance. But some of the
men realized instantly that this expedient would fail. They were in no
mood for half measures. Norrie felt a bayonet under his left
shoulder-blade. Coke was roared down, and a hoarse voice growled:

"Me for the tall timbers, maties. It's each one for hisself now."

"Aye, aye!" came the chorus . . . "Shove her ashore! . . . Give us a
chanst there. . . We've none at sea."

Dom Corria, being something of a fatalist, did not interfere. On this
cockleshell of a craft, among these rude spirits of alien races, he was
powerless. On land a diplomat and strategist of high order, here he
was a cipher. Moreover, he was beaten to his knees, and he knew it.
The arrival of the warship had upset his calculations. After many
months' planning of flight, he had been forced, by the events of a few
hours, into an aggressive campaign. His little cohort had done
wonders, it is true, but of what avail were these ill-equipped
stalwarts against a fast-moving fort, armed with heavy guns and
propelled by thousands of steam horses? None, absolutely none. Dom
Corria drew San Benavides aside.

"All is ended!" he said quietly. "We shall never see Brazil again,
Salvador _meu_! Carmela must find another lover, it seems."

Salvador did not appear to be specially troubled by the new quest
imposed on Carmela, but he was much perturbed by an uproar betokening
disunion among the men who had already saved his life twice. He was
beginning to believe in them. It was night, and they possessed a
vessel under steam. Why did they not hurry into the obscurity of the
smooth dark plain that looked so inviting?

It was left to Hozier to solve a problem that threatened to develop
into a disastrous brawl. Danger sharpens a brave man's wits, but love
makes him fey. To succor Iris was now his sole concern. He swung a
couple of the excited sailors out of his way and managed to stem the
torrent of Coke's futile curses.

"Give in to them!" he cried eagerly. "Tell them they are going ashore
in the creek. That will stop the racket. If they listen to me, I can
still find a means of escape."

"Avast yelpin',