As they watched Sellers pulling back they saw the Juan drop a boat.

“Hullo!” said Satan.

He put the glass to his eye.

“Cark’s coming off. He’s in the sternsheets, him and his patch—what’s up now?”

The two boats approached one another, and then hung together, evidently in consultation. Then the oars took the water and they approached the Sarah, Sellers leading. Satan, who had found a piece of chewing-gum in his pocket, put it into his mouth and began to chew, leisurely, like a cow on her cud, while he watched the approaching boats.

“What you want?” shouted Satan when they were in speaking distance.

“Cark says you’re to come aboard right now,” replied Sellers. “You’ve played him one trick, and he don’t want you to play him another.”

“Oh, don’t he?”

“No, he don’t.”

Satan spat into the water alongside and leaned comfortably on the rail. Carquinez was as close to the Sarah as Sellers, yet he spoke no word, leaving his deputy to do the talking, and contenting himself with making occasional birdlike noises.

“Well,” said Satan, ruffled, for all his appearances of calm, “you can tell him I’ll come when I want to, and that won’t be before tomorrow morning, for his damn cheek! Ahoy there, Cark! Ain’t you got a tongue in your head?”

“He’s like a blessed canary bird,” cut in Jude. “Hi, there, Sellers! what you done with the cage?”

“Is that your ultermatum?” demanded Sellers, ignoring Jude and addressing Satan.

“My which matum?”

“Is that all you gotta say?”

“Oh, Lord, no!” said Satan.

“Well, then, out with it!”

Ratcliffe had never seen Satan “het up” till now, as, straightening himself and gripping the rail, he let out:

“Gotta say? Why, if I’m sayin’ from now to the end o’ next week, I couldn’t say the beginnin’ of my opinion of you, right from the truck of Cleary’s old cod boat to the keel o’ that old disgrace you ripped of her guts when she was a yacht—you an’ your crew of cockroaches an’ dagoes—right from the soles of Cleary’s flat feet to the end of your bottle nose—you and your ultermatum!

“That’s all. I haven’t time to be wastin’ on you. I’ll come if I have a mind to and when I want, without waitin’ for your orders—now scatter yourselves!”

“Right,” said Sellers. He gave an order to the boat’s crew, and the boat turned, and, followed by Carquinez, made back to the Juan.

Satan, his hand on the rail, watched them, still chewing.

Not a word spoke he, the bulge in his cheek steadfast against the skyline and his eyes fixed on the boats.

Then he suddenly turned.

“Them thugs will try to board us now,” said Satan. “We’ve gotta fight. There’s Cleary puttin’ off, and we’ll have the whole Noah’s ark on us in two ticks. We’ve gotta get the ammunition ready.”

“There are guns down below,” said Ratcliffe.

“Guns!” said Satan. “God bless you, we don’t want no guns! Cark’s too frightened of the law to let any of his men use knives or pistols. Jude, where’s that tub of stinkin’ bait—you haven’t hove it over, have you?”

“Nope.”

“Cart it along. Rat; fetch up them five bottles of whisky,—they’re better’n bumshells,—and there’s an old fryin’ pan in the galley with a hole in it. Fetch it with the rest. There’s nothin’ like a fryin’ pan for beltin’ people—you can’t miss. What you gettin’ at Jude?”

“The mop,” said Jude. “I don’t want nothing better for sweepin’ up rubbish!”

“Well, maybe; but they’ll fight better’n you think. Lord! if I only had a roll of barb wire! Here they come! Hurry up, Rat!”

The three boats, Sellers and Cleary leading, were in motion and making for the Juan. “We’ve only two to reckon with,” said Satan, as Ratcliffe arrived, Jude helping him up with the ammunition. “Cark won’t join in: he’s too frightened of his skin. Now then, ready with your weapons!”

He was right. Cark’s boat, half a cable-length away, backed water while the redoubtable Cleary and Sellers rushed like hawks on the prey, aiming to board the Sarah to starboard, Cleary forward, Sellers aft.

But the men at the oars were not used to this sort of work. In their enthusiasm and despite the curses of their captains, they held on too long, nearly smashed the boat’s bows against the side of the Sarah, and fell into wild confusion trying to get their oars in under the bombardment from the deck. Over the clamor of the gulls rose the shrill curses and shouts of the dagoes, the whooping of Satan, the smashing of bottles, while over all the perfume of bad fish and poisonous whisky rose like the fume of the fight; but the attackers held, held by teeth and claws and boathooks, while the wily Carquinez, on the fringe of the fight, voiceful for once, standing up and clutching his coat together, shouted directions—unheeded as unheard.

Twice Sellers was almost on board, and twice Jude’s mop sent him head over heels back; but now Cleary had made good forward, backed by two of his crew, and while Jude, rushing to Ratcliffe’s aid, drove him back with the mop in the pit of his stomach, Sellers, eyes shut, head down, and fighting Satan like a mad bull, gained the deck, gripped Satan, slipped, fell, and rolled with him in the scuppers. Three dagoes had followed Sellers and flung themselves like dogs on the stragglers; but now Jude and Ratcliffe, free for a moment, flung themselves on the dagoes, broke the fight, freed Satan, and sent the whole lot bundling over, Sellers and all—only to find that Cleary had made good again, and after Cleary half his boat’s crew.

Led by Satan, who had seized the frying pan, the defenders hurled themselves on Cleary.

Satan was right, you can’t miss with a frying pan. Cleary went down before it. Ratcliffe, using only his fists, had floored the biggest of the dagoes, and the rest were crowding back helter skelter, when a shout from Sellers, who had regained the deck, brought the battle to a pause.

“Stop fightin’, you damn fools!” cried Sellers.

“Lord! Look!” cried Jude.

The port side of the Sarah was turned to the entrance of the lagoon, and into the lagoon was gliding a long, lean destroyer, shearing the blue-green water from her fore foot.

Being to starboard, the attackers had not seen her, and the men on deck had been too busy.

Carquinez alone had sighted her. The effect was magical. Peace fell like a suddenly dropped dish-cover, and over the rail came Carquinez and half a dozen more Spaniards from the boats.

“Now we’re done!” said Sellers. “She’s a Britisher, and this damn sandbank’s British and we’ll be had to the Bahamas Courts o’ Inquiry and Lord knows what all. Referred to Havana for inquiries. They’ve seen us at it, no use in denyin’ it. Look at them cusses’ bloody noses and Cleary flattened out. Kick him alive, some of you fools! Here they come!”

The destroyer had cast anchor and dropped a boat. With the terrible precision of a hawk or a warship closing on its prey, she was on to the Sarah. A blue and gold man held the yoke lines, and the oars of the rowers rowed like one.

“Look at that image on the sternsheets,” said Sellers.

“Leave him to me,” said Satan.

“What’s your game?”

“Shut your head! Here he is!”

The boat came alongside. The oars rising like one, fell with a crash, the bow oar hooked on, and over the rail came a sublieutenant of the British Navy, smooth of face and neat as though just taken from a bandbox.

“What the devil are you fellows up to, fighting here?” asked the sublieutenant.

Satan broke into a laugh.

“We’re movie men,” said Satan.

“You’re what?”

“Movin’ pictures.”

“Oh—cinematograph?”

“That’s it.”

Ratcliffe, fired with admiration for this Satanic move, joined in laughing.

“Did you think we were fighting, really? Well, that’s funny. What’s the name of your ship?”

“The Albatross,” replied the sublieutenant, completely and roundly taken in. “You’re English, aren’t you?” “Yes, I’m English. Joined the show some time ago.”

“What’s that hooker on the sand over there?”

“Oh, that’s part of our show. Boat supposed to have been wrecked—these chaps are pirates.”

“Jolly good make-up!” said the other, surveying the pirates and taking in Cark, also Cleary, who, resuscitated in time, was leaning over the rail chewing and spitting into the water.

The awful question, “Where’s your camera?” never came. If it had, Satan would no doubt have met it; but the sublieutenant was new to this sort of business and not on the hunt for evidence. The thing was palpable and plain. No complaint came from the attacked, and attacked and attackers were all seemingly friends. The words “cinematograph company” covered the situation completely.

He gave a few words of information about the Albatross. She had put in for a small repair and would be off again tomorrow morning. Then he dropped into his boat and the incident was closed.

“Now, you cusses,” said Satan, “see where you have landed yourselves! Where’d you have been only for me?”

“Well, I don’t deny you slipped the hood over that Britisher pretty smart,” said Sellers.

Cleary turned his head and looked at Sellers. “You don’t deny! Why, you bloody barnacle scraper, I told you to hold off from the business! Satan, I forgive you that clap on the head. Lord love me! I’ll never carry a derringer again. Give me a fryin’ pan, that’s the weppin; you can’t dodge it no more than you can dodge a thunderstorm.”

“Well,” said Satan, “fryin’ pan back the lot of you, and I’ll be on board the Juan inside half an hour and settle my business with you. If Cark had kept his mouth shut instead of givin’ me orders, we’d have finished it by now and no heads broke.”

“We’ll be waiting for you,” said Sellers.

They tumbled into the boats and rowed off.

“They never drew a knife,” said Ratcliffe.

“Oh, Cark took their knives from them,” said Satan. “He didn’t want no blood spillin’ and trouble,—too much afraid of the law.”

Jude, who had collapsed sitting-wise on the deck, began to laugh hysterically.

“What are you laughin’ at?” demanded Satan.

“I dunno,” said Jude.