fog, but some gasped and others mumbled prayers. One of the wounded
soldiers shouted in delirium, and a coat was thrust over his head with
brutal force. The fog-horn blared again, two cables' lengths distant.
They were saved, for the moment!

In a little while, perhaps twenty minutes, they heard another siren.
It sounded a different note, a quaintly harsh blend of discords.
Whatsoever ship this might be, it was not the _Sao Geronimo_. And in
that thrilling instant there was a coldness on one side of their faces
that was not on the other. Moist skin is a weather-vane in its way. A
breeze was springing up. Soon the fog would be rolled from off the sea
and the sun would peer at them in mockery.

Coke's gruff voice reached every ear:

"This time we're nabbed for keeps unless you all do as I bid you," he
said. "When the fog lifts, the cruiser will see us. There's only one
thing for it. Somewhere, close in, is a steamer. She's a tramp, by
the wheeze of 'er horn. We've got to board 'er an' sink the launch.
If she's British, or American, O.K., as 'er people will stand by us.
If she's a Dago, we've got to collar 'er, run every whelp into the
forehold, an' answer the cruiser's signals ourselves. That's the
sittiwation, accordin' to my reckonin'. Now, 'oo's for it?"

"Butt right in, skipper," said a gentleman who claimed Providence,
Rhode Island, as the place of his nativity.

Hozier, who had contrived to draw near Iris while Coke was speaking,
breathed softly, so that none other could hear:

"This is rank piracy. But what else can we do?"

"Is it wrong?" she asked.

"Well--no, provided we kill no one. We are justified in saving our own
lives, and the average German or Italian shipmaster would hand us over
to the Brazilians without scruple."

Iris was far from Bootle and its moralities.

"I don't care what happens so long as you are not hurt," she whispered.

"Mr. Hozier," said Coke thickly.

"Yes, sir."

"You've got good eyes an' quick ears. Lay out as far forrard as you
can, an' pass the word for steerin'."

Hozier obeyed. The discordant bleat of a foghorn came again,
apparently right ahead. In a few seconds he caught the flapping of a
propeller, and silenced the launch's engines.

"We are close in now," he said to Coke, after a brief and noiseless
drift. "Why not try a hail!"

"Ship ahoy!" shouted Coke, with all the force of brazen lungs.

The screw of the unseen ship stopped. The sigh