“Of course; it was a spring lock.  You sent Mr. Edwards and his men aboard.  No such experts as Pulz or Perdosa were in your crew.  Consequently it took longer to get the chest open.  When at length the lid was raised, there was a repetition of the tragedy.  Mr. Edwards and his men leaped.  Probably they were paralysed almost before they struck the water.  Your bos’n, whom Slade picked up, was the only one who had time even to grab a life preserver before the impulse toward water became irresistible.  There was no element of fright, you understand:  no desertion of their post.  They were dragged as by the sweep of a tornado.”  Darrow spoke direct to Captain Parkinson.  “If there is any feeling among you other than sorrow for their death, it is unjust and unworthy.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darrow,” returned the captain quietly.

“We found the chest closed again when the empty ship came back,” observed Barnett.

“Being masterless, the schooner began to yaw,” continued Darrow.  “The first time she came about would have heeled her enough to shut the chest.  Now came the turn of your other men.”

“Ives and McGuire,” said the Captain, as Darrow paused.

“The glow came again that night, and the next day we picked up Slade,” said Barnett.

“You know what the glow meant for your companions,” said Darrow.

“But the ship.  The Laughing Lass, man.  She’s vanished.  No one has seen her since.”

“You are wrong there,” said Darrow.  “I have seen her.”

In a common impulse the little circle leaned to him.

“Yes, I have seen her.  I wish I had not.  Let me bring my story back to the cave on the island.  After the volcanic gases had driven me to the refuge, I sat near the mouth of the cave looking out into the darkness.  That was the night of the 7th, the night you saw the last glow.  It was very dark, except for occasional bursts of fire from the crater.  Judge of my incredulous amazement when, in an access of this illumination, I saw plainly a schooner hardly a mile off shore, coming in under bare poles.”

“Under bare poles?” cried Slade.

“The halliards must have disintegrated from some slow action of the celestium.  It could be destructive:  terrifically destructive.  You shall judge.  There was the schooner, naked as your hand.  Possibly I might have thought it a hallucination but for what came after.  Darkness fell again.  I supposed then that Handy Solomon’s crew were managing—­or mismanaging—­the Laughing Lass without the aid of their leader, whom I had satisfactorily buried.  I hoped they would come ashore on the rocks.  Yes I was vengeful ... then.

“Of a sudden there sprang from the darkness a ship of light.  You have all seen those great electric effects at expositions.  Someone touches a button ... you know.  It was like that.  Only that the piercingly brilliant jewelled wonder of a ship was set in the midst of a swirl of vari-coloured radiance such as I can’t begin to describe.  You saw it from a distance.  Imagine what it was, coming close upon you that way—­dead on, out of the night.  A living glory, a living terror....”