Captain Junard awoke suddenly from a sound sleep. He listened intently for a few moments. The steady vibrations of the ship's engines told of the unchecked motion, the unhindered rush of the ship through the sea. Yet something had awakened him, something had given him a start from a dreamless sleep, the sleep of a tired man. He knew that something was wrong, felt it, and wondered at it, while his heart began to sound the alarm by its increasing pulsations. He wondered if he were sick, had eaten something that might produce nightmare; but he felt very well, and knew he never started at trifles. His hand reached for the revolver at the head of his bunk. He always kept it there for emergencies. It was a heavy forty-five, with a long, blue barrel—a strong weapon that had stood him handily in several affairs aboard the steamer. The light in his room was dim, but there was enough of it to show him that his room was empty. His hand reached the spot where the weapon usually hung, but failed to reach it. He groped softly for several moments. There was nothing upon the bulkhead; the gun was gone.

This fact made a peculiar impression upon him. He felt now that his instinct was correct, that he was indeed in danger. His mind cleared quickly from the stupor of sound sleep, and he remembered. He was carrying papers of peculiar importance in his strong box, or safe—papers relating to a deal in shipping connected with a revolution in a Central American state. A rival line had tried to stop the affair, which grew into political importance when secret agents of the United States tried to find out how deeply it might affect the Panama Canal. The concession had not been granted. The Canal Zone was not yet in existence, and the United States was sure to get it if this deal went through. The president had watched the affair with hungry eyes. Now the papers were in his—Junard's—possession, aboard his ship, bound for the state department in Washington.

Junard started up when he found his hand missing the butt of that revolver. It had been a pleasant fancy to him when he remembered its solid grip and deadly accuracy, a dependable friend in the hours of darkness and distress. Now it was gone, and could not have gone without some one having taken it. If they took it, they took it to keep him from using it. The idea of its loss awakened him more than anything else, and sent his heart beating fast as with sudden quickness and energy he sprang from his bed. There was nothing in his room, nothing at all. The lamp burned low. The electrics had been switched off, as they gave too much light for him to sleep in. Junard stood wondering, studying, and gazing at his safe, which lay bolted to the deck in a corner of his room.The captain's room was just abaft the pilot house, as is usual in ships of that class. A stairway, or companion, of five steps led to the pilot house, but these were cut flush with his room and into the floor of the house above, so that he could shut the door. The door was shut now as he looked, but the sound of the steering gear told him that the man at the wheel, within a dozen feet of him, was steering and attending apparently to his business. The room ran clear across the superstructure, opening with a door upon either side. To starboard was his bathroom, to port was a closet, which adjoined the room of the chief officer, being separated from it by the bulkhead. Both these rooms led aft and opened into his room by doors in the bulkhead. This made his room a complete section of the superstructure about twelve feet deep and running clear through. There was nothing in it that could hide any one. A table, a couch with leather cushions, several chairs, and a large desk completed the furniture. His bed was a large double bunk let in to port and hung with curtains. It somewhat resembled an old four-poster bed.

Junard walked quickly to the safe. It was locked. He smiled at himself. The absurdity of the thing almost made him laugh. And yet he was as nervous as a ship's cat when watching a strange dog. He opened the door leading to the pilot house. The man in there was standing in regulation pose, with his hands upon the spokes of the steam steering gear. The sudden rattle and clank told Junard the fellow was awake and alert. The dim light from the binnacle made his outline plainly discernible, and Junard recognized him as Swan, a quartermaster of long service and excellent ability.

"How's she heading, Swan?" whispered the captain.

"No'the, two east, sir," said the man, with a slight start. The words had come to him from the gloom behind him, and he had not heard the door open.

"That's right; they haven't reported the Cape yet?"

"No, sir; but that's Cape Maysi, sir, I think," said Swan, pointing to a light that had just begun to show right over the port bow. Eight bells struck off upon the clock in the house as he spoke, and the cry came from forward. The chief mate, who was on watch, came to the pilot-house window, reached in, and took out the night glasses. He adjusted them and gazed at Cape Maysi. Captain Junard watched him narrowly, and noted that he took the bearings and made the remark in his order book. Mr. Jameson was a good officer and a first-class navigator, and Junard did not wish to appear on deck until he was called. It looked as if he did not trust the officer sufficiently. He would wait until the light was reported officially.

When Junard turned to reËnter his room, he heard a slight noise. There was a rustle, a whirl, and the door of the room to port clicked to. It had been shut when he jumped from his bunk. He gazed in the direction of the safe, and saw that it was now standing wide open, the door swinging slowly with the motion of the ship. He sprang to the switch and turned on the light, full power.

In front of him was the safe, with the door open. In front of the safe lay a huge knife, and alongside of the knife lay his revolver, fully loaded, and cocked. Whoever had it was ready to use it upon a moment's notice. The intruder had fled at the sound of Junard's steps upon the pilot-house companion.

Junard was a very heavy-set man. He stood but five feet two inches, but was at least three feet across the shoulders, an immense man for his height, his chest being as broad and hairy as a gorilla's. His powerful legs were set wide apart to steady himself to the ship's motion, and for a brief instant he stood there in the full light, clothed in his pajamas. Then, with a roar like that of a bull, he plunged headlong for the lattice door of his room, and, bursting it with a crash, reached the deck in full stride. He just caught sight of what appeared to be a skirt, switching around the corner of the deck house, and he leaped savagely for it. He reached the corner, swung around it—and saw no one. Down the alleyway he ran, swung about, and came out to port upon the deck. There was not a soul to be seen, and he hesitated an instant which way to run. Then he ran aft with prodigious speed, and, within a couple of seconds, reached the cabin companionway. The light burned at the head of the broad stairs, but not a soul was in sight. He dashed inside silently, being barefooted, and, peering over the baluster, he saw the steward on watch peacefully snoring away in a chair near the water-cooler at the foot of the stairway.

"Sam!" he called sharply.

The man awoke with a start.

"Aye, aye, sir!" he said, looking about him, recognizing the captain's voice, but not seeing him at once.

"Has any one come down this way within the last few minutes?" asked Junard.

"No, sir, not a soul, sir."

"Sure?"

"Sure, sir. I've only been dozing but a minute. I'd have seen 'em, sir."

Junard slipped away quietly, leaving the under-steward wondering what he wanted. With amazing swiftness, the master rushed back to his room. He reached it, and went inside the broken door. The light was still burning, but the safe was now closed. He tried the combination lock, and found it had been locked. The gun and knife had also disappeared. The room was in perfect order, the light burning full power, and there was not a thing to show that there had been an entry made. The bursted door was the only sign of any irregularity. He stood gazing at the safe for a few minutes. The thing was almost uncanny. He began to wonder if he had not had a nightmare, dreamed the whole thing. He turned the combination of the safe, and opened the door again. The contents of the safe were apparently intact. He reached for the inner drawer, where the important papers had been kept. They were gone.It was not nightmare, after all. The thing was real. The papers had been taken from the safe, and they were worth perhaps a million to the finder, if not much more; that is, if they could be gotten out of the ship and into the hands of those who were antagonistic to the deal. He pondered a few minutes more, and then decided to go on deck and stand the next watch upon the bridge, remaining there, with the excuse that the cape was drawing abreast and he would take his departure from it. He decided not to say anything to either officer. The thing had best be kept secret, for the very existence of the papers might imperil his company, if that existence were known to certain parties. He hastily dressed and went on the bridge.

Mr. Dunn, the second officer, was now on watch, and it was about a quarter of an hour past midnight. The cape was drawing up, and was fast approaching the port beam. The ship was running about sixteen knots through a smooth sea, with a stiff northeast trade blowing almost dead ahead.

Junard came to where the second officer stood. Mr. Dunn turned and spoke to him, remarking upon the blackness of the night and the clearness of the Cape Maysi light.

Captain Junard said nothing, but watched the second officer narrowly, and tried to fathom his demeanor, looking for some sign that might show a knowledge of what had transpired aboard within the past few minutes. Dunn had been upon the bridge when that safe was shut, when the revolver had been taken away. Yet Dunn had been in the employ of the company for ten years, and was a reliable man, a sailor who had always done his duty without murmur. He had a fine record.

The light drew abeam, and the ship ran close to the low, rocky point where it juts out into the sea. The high mountains a few miles back showed dimly in the gloom, making a huge shadow in the background. As the light is upon the north side of the low promontory and shows across to the southward, the land was very near as the ship steamed past it and laid her head for the passage.

Junard gazed hard at the shore. He was thinking. Would any one try to get into communication with Cuba here at the cape? There was a question. If a small boat lay near, with lights out, she might get close to the ship without being observed, for it was quite dark, and the loom of the land made it darker than usual. It was nearly six hours' run to the next light, in the Bahamas, across the channel, and the Inagua Bank was too far to the eastward to invite shelter for a small boat. It would be either at the cape, or near Castle Rock, or Fortune Island, he believed, that an attempt might be made to get into communication with the ship. This he must stop. No one must get in communication with the land before daylight. Then he would search every passenger thoroughly, go through all rooms, and take a chance at the result. At Castle Rock he would be on watch, if nothing occurred here.

He gazed steadily into the blackness ahead. The stiff trade wind blew the tops of the seas white. They broke in whitecaps, which showed now and then through the gloom of the night. He strained his eyes, but nothing showed ahead. The glass showed a dull, dark sea; there was nothing in the line of vision within three miles—that is, nothing as large as a whaleboat. He was sure of this. There might be something under the dark loom of the land, but the glass failed to show anything.

"You take a four-point bearing upon the light, Mr. Dunn, and get the distance accurate," said Junard. "The mate took his bearing before he left the deck, but you can take another—we are about abreast now—she's doing exactly sixteen."

Knowing that this would take the second officer until the light bore four points abaft the beam, Junard left the bridge and went aft without notice. He slipped down to the main deck, and went along the gangway until he reached the taffrail. The whirl of the wheel shook the ship mightily here, the long, steel arm of the tiller under the gratings shook and vibrated with the pulsations. The chains drawn taut clanked and rattled in the guides and sounded above the low murmur of the shaking fabric. Junard gazed over the stern and watched the thrust of the screw as it tore the sea white and whirled a giant stream astern that showed sickly white with the phosphorescent glow.

When he turned again, he was aware of some one watching him. A head had appeared and vanished from behind the end of the cabin structure. The captain sprang for it with a bound. He turned the corner in time to see a skirt disappearing into the alleyway leading into the saloon. He was upon it with a catlike rush. He reached the saloon door just as it closed in his face.

Without hesitating an instant, he plunged against it, and it gave way to his great weight and power. He burst with a crash into the saloon.

The under steward who was on watch aft saw an apparition of a man in uniform coming through the door like a bull. He had opened his eyes in time to recognize the captain, who ran right across the cabin and out upon the deck beyond.

Junard was swift. He made a reach for the figure as it flitted into a room which opened upon the deck nearly amidships. His iron grip closed upon the skirt, which stretched out in the wind behind the fleeing figure. Then something struck him full in the face, took his breath, and blinded him. He clung to the cloth, choking, coughing, and blinded; made a grab with his free hand to clutch the person—but his grip closed upon empty air.

When he got the ammonia out of his eyes, which were almost blinded by the scorching fluid, he hurried to his room and bathed his head copiously in cold water until he regained his sight.

"Well, it's a woman, all right," he commented. "We'll have her all right in the morning; she won't get a show to-night to get away with anything. I guess I've got her measure."

In a few minutes he sent for the purser.

That individual came to the captain's room with fear and trembling. He had been playing draw poker, and breaking the rules of the ship, regardless of discipline, and expected, of course, to get a rating.

"Give me the passenger list," said Junard.

It was produced. They ran over it, looking for the location of all the women under thirty or thereabouts in the ship. Junard said nothing of his adventure, and the purser was amazed at his appearance.

"Had a bad night, captain?" he asked.

"Yes, rather. There's a case of cholera aboard—among the women—I don't know which one, but we'll have a chance to find out to-morrow. Don't speak of it to any one, mind you; don't let it out under any conditions—you understand?"

"Sure not," said the purser, paling a little under the news. "How did you come to find it out, sir?"

"Never mind that now. Just keep an eye on all the women in this ship, and don't let any of them get to throwing things overboard, or trying to do anything foolish. Watch them, and tell me of anything that might happen."

The purser, amazed, went back to his game of poker with certain passengers; but before doing so, he instructed several of his force to watch both gangways for the rest of the night. He did not know what the "old man" expected, but supposed that cholera patients attempted to throw things overboard, or tried suicide. The thought of the dread disease aboard made him forgetful of the game, and he lost heavily before morning. Junard, still smarting from the ammonia thrown in his face, came again upon the bridge. He had saved his eyes by a fraction, for the fluid had struck him right in the nose and mouth, and only the spray of it had gotten into his face higher up. It had been squirted by a fluid "gun" of the kind commonly used by bicyclists for repelling angry dogs. Part of the skirt had remained in his grip, but the person had slipped away in an instant and disappeared. It angered him to think a woman could do such a thing. And yet, if it were a woman watching him, there was sure to be more than a woman connected with it. No woman, he reasoned, could have tried his safe. No woman would have taken his revolver and carried it, along with a deadly knife. There must have been a well-organized party to the affair, and they had watched him, after taking the papers, to see just what he would do. Of course, he knew they would not toss such a valuable document overboard in the night time without a boat being close at hand to pick it up. The ocean is a hard place to find anything at night. He knew now that they were aware of his watchfulness and would not attempt to get rid of the papers except under the most favorable conditions. To throw them overboard attached to anything small enough not to attract attention would be to invite sure loss. He reasoned this out as he stood out the rest of Mr. Dunn's watch, and at eight bells—four o'clock in the morning—the mate came again on the bridge without anything happening to excite him."I've been on deck for a short time, Mr. Jameson," said Junard; "but I'm going to turn in for a little while. Call me when we get well up to Castle Rock—we'll raise it before morning, before daylight with the weather clear like this."

"Aye, aye, sir; I will, sir—she's doing fine now," said Jameson, as he signed the order book for his course during his watch.

At two bells—five o'clock—the mate called the captain by going to his port door and knocking. He was amazed at the sight of a young woman who came forth from the room and whisked herself quickly down the deck and out of sight. Such a thing as a woman in the master's room at that hour was enough to excite Mr. Jameson. He had not been on the ship long, and the captain was new to him. Masters naturally had love affairs as well as sailors, but they were generally careful about being caught. Here Junard had asked him to call him when they sighted Castle Rock, and, as he knew they must do this by five, at least, the mate was puzzled to see a woman leaving the captain's room when he knocked. Why hadn't she left sooner? It was a joke he would be bound to retail to the rest sooner or later, and he smiled at the thought. He tried to get a glimpse of her face, but failed. Then he waited a decent length of time, and knocked again, louder, announcing the light ahead on the starboard bow.

Junard came on deck instantly. He had been dressed and dozing.The gray light of the morning, which was now beginning to show things a little, enabled Junard to note the smile upon the face of his chief mate.

"Anything funny doing?" he asked.

"No, sir; but I seen her—I couldn't help it."

"Seen who?"

"I beg your pardon, sir; but she was just going out when I came to call you when I raised the light—your orders, sir, you know. I wouldn't——"

"Out with it! Whom did you see?" snapped the captain sharply, and his tone told plainly that he was in no mood for a joke. The mate sobered at once.

"There was a lady leaving your room as I came to knock—that's all, sir," he said sullenly. The captain had a poor appreciation of humor, he thought.

"What kind of looking woman was she?"

"Medium-sized, very well built—I might say stocky, sir—dressed in a dark cloth dress; she didn't have on a hat." This last was with almost a sneer. It brought Junard around with a jerk.

"I don't wish to seem foolish, Mr. Jameson, but you appear to presume too much. I might insinuate gently that you are a damn fool—but I won't, not until you tell me what is amusing you, and what you saw. I will say there was no woman in my room. If there was, I'd not be troubled to confess it."

"That's all I seen, sir," said Jameson sourly.

"Which way did she go?"

"She went aft," said the mate, wondering at the captain trying to hide the obvious. It irked him to think his master a fool. "She went aft, and that's all I seen."

"Mr. Jameson, there's a few things you don't know," said Junard. "When we get abreast of Castle Rock, I want you to go aft and watch both sides of the ship carefully, you understand? I want you to see that not a thing is thrown overboard—not a single thing—and if there is anything showing in the wake, come to me at once—or, better still, ring off the engines and mark it to pick up. This is very important. I can't tell you right now just how important it is, but I will say your berth depends upon it. Do not let anything leave the ship without notice—not a thing."

"Aye, aye, sir," said Jameson; and he went aft amazed at the outcome of his deductions. He wondered what was up. Some affair of the captain's, he was sure. But the severity of the master's tone, the earnestness of the captain's manner, disturbed him greatly. There was something peculiar about it that made him, forced him, to give his attention to it. And there was the threat of his own berth, his position, being in forfeit. He did not like that kind of talk from a captain. It savored of undue severity. He took his station aft of the superstructure with some misgivings. In the gray light of dawn, he watched both gangways, first one side and then the other, keeping well back of the house.

Castle Rock light drew well upon the bow. It was now within a mile, and Junard noticed a small fishing boat riding in the fairway just ahead of the ship. As the water was very deep here, he knew she was not anchored, but must be waiting and under way; yet no sail showed upon her. Perhaps a powerful motor lay within her. He watched her carefully, and walked from side to side of the bridge, waiting for some sign from those aboard. The wake was now showing white in the gray of morning, and a small object could soon be distinguished in the smooth sea to leeward of the lighthouse, where the heavy swell of the Atlantic was cut off.

Jameson, who stood at the taffrail, saw a figure of a man peer from the window of a stateroom nearly amidships. The head was quickly withdrawn. The mate watched, and then walked quickly across the stern and watched the wake, wondering what might be taking place. The form of a woman flitted down the gangway from forward, showing dimly in the gloom. She came from the opposite side of the ship from where he had seen the head peer forth. Hiding behind the house, he watched her come quickly aft. She was carrying something in her hand that looked like a life buoy. Instinctively the mate made ready to catch her. He saw that life belt, and to his imagination it spelled something like a person going overboard. The form of a man came quickly behind her, and Jameson recognized one of the under stewards, who had been watching for trouble at the purser's orders.

The woman ran at the sound of footsteps behind her. She came with amazing swiftness to the taffrail, near where Jameson stood. He gathered himself, and sprang forth, clasping her in his arms just as she hurled the life belt over the side into the sea.

The girl screamed shrilly, struggled frantically in the embrace of the officer. Jameson wondered what he was about—began to think he had captured a lunatic—when the rush of feet above caused him to loosen his grip. He turned in time to see Captain Junard take a header from the rail of the deck above and plunge headlong into the sea where it boiled and swirled from the thrust of the screw.

Jameson was paralyzed for an instant. He distinctly saw his commander go overboard. It gave him a shock. He let go the girl and stood motionless for a second. Then, as the head of Junard arose in the white waste astern and struck out for an object, the life belt the girl had thrown over, he gathered his wits again, and dashed for the quarter bell pull, or telegraph, to the engine room.

Full speed astern he threw it, and the astonished engineer on watch nearly fainted under the sudden warning. Thinking that a collision was at hand, he shut down and reversed under full power, opening the throttle wide, and giving her every ounce of steam in her boilers as she took the strain. The sudden take-up, the tremendous vibrations, and the slowing speed awoke many passengers. Not a sound of action had gone forth save the screams of the girl, and these were now silent as she had quickly flitted out of sight when the mate released her. Jameson rushed to the bridge and called his watch as he ran. Then he set the siren cord down hard, and the unearthly roar awoke the quiet tropical morning. Men rushed about. The watch hurried aft.

"Stop her!" yelled Jameson to the quartermaster. "Stop her—don't go astern!"

"Stop her, sir!" came the answering cry from the wheel. Jameson rushed to the rail again, and cut loose a life buoy from its lashings. He ran aft with it, intending to throw it out to his captain. Junard, however, was but a speck, far astern, his head showing like a black dot in the white water of the wake. The mate noticed for the first time that the small fishing boat ahead was now standing down toward the ship under rapid headway, the exhaust from her motor sounding loud and sharp over the sea.

"Get the quarter boat down—quick!" came his order.

Then he hesitated a moment. The small fishing boat was nearing them with rapidity. She headed straight for Junard, and would reach him long before any rowboat from the ship could get there.

"Hold on! Avast the boat there!" he ordered. "That motor boat will pick him up, all right." Then the thought that he was not quite right in not lowering down a boat for his commander, that it might look queer, waiting for a stranger to do his evident duty, came over him, and he gave the order to lower away. The small boat dropped into the sea. The steamer was now motionless, lying in the calm sea behind the rock, with her engines stopped. Men crowded the rail aft to watch.

"What's the matter? What made him jump overboard?" came the question from all sides. "It's the captain! What's up?"

Jameson could not quite tell. He was vaguely aware that his commander sprang over for some object. That he took a desperate chance, with the ship going ahead, was certain. Had he not been seen, the vessel would have been miles away before missing him, for there had been no warning from the bridge. The mate slid down the falls, wondering what he was doing.

"Cast off—give way, port; back, starboard!" came his order. He stood up, to see better, and gazed at the fishing boat, that now approached the speck he knew to be the head of Captain Junard.

"Give way together!" he said, glad to get away from the ship, with the inquisitive crowd gathering rapidly and increasing in both anxiety and numbers.

He watched the motor boat come quickly to where Junard swam. The captain was not a good swimmer. Few seamen can swim well. Jameson saw the boat approach, men lean out from her side, and grab something, apparently trying to lift the captain aboard. Then there was a tremendous floundering and threshing about in the sea, distant shouts for help from the captain, and the mate grasped the tiller yoke with a certain grip.

"Give way, bullies! Give way—all that's in you now!" he urged.

Something was taking place that he did not quite understand, but he had heard that call for help.

Junard saw the fishing boat coming toward him before it reached him. He waited, swimming slowly and reserving his strength, feeling that the occupants were hostile and were waiting for the papers that had been tossed overboard. It was about where he expected something to happen. The lighthouse and the shelter of the island made it a most convenient spot to pull off the finish of the affair. The light-draft fishing boat, with her motor, could easily evade capture from anything the ship could send out after her. The steamer herself could not enter the shoal water, and must allow the smaller boat to get away across the shallow parts of the Great Panama Bank to some distant rendezvous, where the papers could be put aboard a proper ship to take them to the conspirators. He, the commander, had no right to leave the ship in the manner he had done; but necessity called for drastic action, and he had plunged over the side as soon as he had seen the girl fling an object overboard.

Three men in the fishing boat were watching him as she drew up. His own boat was a long distance off, but he hoped the mate would hurry.

A man came forward in the motor boat, and leaned out from her side. He watched him narrowly. The man made a grab for Junard as the boat reached him, and the captain, with a sudden jerk, dragged him overboard. Then he yelled for help.

The man's two companions in the boat sprang to his aid. Junard found himself engaged in a desperate struggle with three men, and shoved himself away from the side of the craft.

He held fast to the package, a metal cylinder, tightly wrapped in canvas, and at the same time struggled out of reach of the men above him. The man he had pulled overboard regained his strength, and, grasping the life belt with one hand, grabbed at the package with the other. The package tied to the life belt could not be gotten out of his reach, and Junard was struggling with one hand and fighting and grasping alternately at the life belt with the other.

"Give it up, you scoundrel!" hissed the fellow. "What do you know about this package? Give it to me—do you hear?"

"I hear well enough," snarled Junard, struggling farther out of the reach of those in the motor boat. "But I'm the captain of that ship there—and the papers are in my care. Let go, or I'll do you harm!"

The man glared at him savagely. Then he turned to the men above him in the boat, now a dozen feet away.

"Shoot, Jim—shoot quick—kill the fool if he won't let go!" he said.

The man addressed was a tall, dark fellow with a sinister look. That he was Colombian, Junard knew from his accent and appearance. The other, who had stopped the engine, and who seemed to be the engineer, looked askance. He evidently did not like the shooting part. This man was also a Colombian, but his features were those of a man who works outdoors at a simple trade. The other two looked like desperate men, and Junard felt that they would stop at nothing to get the papers from him. The man who was called Jim hesitated, and then, seeing the small boat approaching from the steamer, reached behind his back and brought forth a long, blue revolver. Junard waited until the barrel came within a line with his eye; then he ducked, and swung the life belt around, coming up with it in front of him, and raising it partly before his face. The pistol cracked sharply, and the bullet tore through the cork. Junard let go the package, and seized the man in the water with both hands, whirling him about and holding him squarely in front of himself.

"Start that engine!" called the man, struggling vainly to get away.

The man who had stopped it whirled the wheel over again, and the rumble of the motor began. The two waited, without throwing on the clutch.

Junard grasped the man firmly, and forced him down under the sea, going under with him, and holding his breath to the limit of his great lungs.

When he came up again the man was choking, gasping for air. Junard only waited long enough to fill his own lungs with a breath, and then ducked again, the crack of the revolver ringing in his ears as he went, pulling his antagonist down with him.

The next time he came up the fellow could not talk, but choked and gasped for air. Junard held him with a giant's grip, his long, powerful arms encircling him like those of a gorilla. The fellow let go the life belt and the package. Junard took in more air, and dropped down again, while a bullet tore through his hair, cutting his scalp.This time when he came up the fellow was limp. Junard held him before him, and the man with the pistol was afraid to fire, as the captain's eyes just showed above the man's neck. The captain struggled farther and farther away from the boat, getting fully twenty feet distant. The man at the engine threw on the clutch, and the boat shot ahead, swung sharply around, and headed for the floating men.

Junard saw the mate standing up in the stern of the ship's boat, and knew he was doing all he could to reach him. The shots had made him aware of the desperate situation, and the men were bending their backs with a will to the oars. Jameson yelled harshly, the men in the motor craft saw that to remain longer would mean capture. They swung off and headed for the steamer, leaving their companion in Junard's grip. The next moment the mate came tearing up, and, leaning over, grasped his commander and hauled him aboard the boat.

Junard came over the side, and immediately reached for a boat hook. He stabbed at the cork jacket, and hauled it alongside, dragging it aboard before the boat lost her headway. The body of the exhausted man sank before either he or Jameson could get another hold of him.

"To the ship—quick!" gasped the captain.

"What's the matter? What's up?" questioned the mate.

"Never mind—swing her, quick!"

The boat turned around and headed back, the captain urging the men to their utmost. The fishing boat, with her motor going full speed, left them far behind. They were unable to get near the craft.

Junard, watching them, saw the boat come close under the ship's stern. A form of a woman leaped from the rail of the lower deck. The splash threw spray almost into the boat as she went past, and they saw the tall Colombian reach over and drag the girl aboard. The boat shot around the steamer's stern and disappeared for a few moments; and when Junard saw her again she was a quarter of a mile distant, and making rapid headway for the shoal water of the island. He started after her, when the shots from the revolver began to strike about the craft, and Junard ordered his men to stop rowing. He knew he could not capture her, unarmed as he was, and he had his precious papers safe in his mighty hands. To follow was only to invite trouble.

The fishing boat ran quickly out of range, and Junard watched her for a few minutes. Then he headed his boat back to the ship.

The rail was crowded as he came alongside, the purser watching him, and half the passengers were on deck to see what was taking place.

"What was it? What's the matter?" asked a score at once.

"Man overboard—that's all," said Jameson.

"H'ist her up," said Junard, and he clambered up the swinging ladder thrown over to him, taking the life belt and the package under his arm.

Mr. Dunn was on deck, and Junard gave him his orders."Full speed ahead—on her course, north to west," he said, and went into his room. The door closed behind him. Then he switched off the lights, for it was now broad daylight, and then he opened the package. The papers were all there and intact, the water not reaching them at all. The safe was opened, and they were placed within. Then Junard stripped and turned in for a few hours of dreamless, quiet sleep.

He had saved the papers of his company, documents that were valued at more than a million dollars—and not a soul aboard knew what had really happened. Even Jameson was never quite sure.

The purser asked no questions about cholera, the ship headed along upon her course toward New York, and the warm day took its routine without further incident. Junard appeared very happy, and told many interesting stories at the dinner table that day. He answered no questions concerning the affair of the night.

He brought in his papers, delivered them in person, and a great political change took place without any one but a few select souls ever knowing how near the verge of revolution a prominent South American republic had been. Junard was offered a medal for risking his life trying to save that of a man overboard—but he refused it. The shots from the fishing boat were explained as signals for help. That was all.