“And still fighting, captain,” I said.

“Did you ever hear of the Devil’s Admiral, Mr. Trenholm?”

“I never did.  Who is the gentleman?”

“I never believed in the stories myself, but Harris did; and now I am sure that he is right.  Two years ago a ship left Singapore for Bombay, and never was heard from until her chronometer turned up in Swatow or somewhere.  A Portuguese Jew had them in a pawnshop, and he said he bought them from a chink for seven Mex dollars.  They never found the chink; but there was the ship’s name, or the captain’s name written in the case with a pencil.

“Then last year the steamer Legaspi left Manila for Hong-Kong with cattle and Christmas goods and passengers, and never was heard from.  Some said she went out to run the blockade before Port Arthur, and the Japs sunk her, but the others said the Devil’s Admiral got her; and then the stories began, and when a ship was overdue or never heard from, people began to say the Devil’s Admiral had her.”

“But who is he, captain?”

“That’s it, Mr. Trenholm.  Nobody knows.  He never leaves a man alive to tell the tale.  Some say he’s a big chink, some say he’s a big black man from the African coast who was mate in a whaler, some say he was an officer in the British navy.

“They found a man dying from starvation and wounds in a boat that got away from him, and the poor chap told a crazy story that they couldn’t make head or tail of, and he died before he told enough to help any, but he said it was the Devil’s Admiral and his crew that got ’em.

“Pearlers he went after first, and then he got bolder and went after sailing-ships; and now they say he went after steamers and got the Legaspi, and, Mr. Trenholm, I believe he’s aboard here now.”

“But who—­”

We heard heavy blows struck against a bulkhead, and the shriek of a door as it was torn from its hinges.

“They are breaking into the storeshold,” explained Riggs.  “They have got the gold, and the next move will be to get away with it in the boats after they have opened her sea-valves, and down we’ll go with the old Kut Sang.”

“But what makes you think we have this Devil’s Admiral aboard?” I asked.

“Thirkle is supposed to be the name of the Devil’s Admiral.”

“And Thirkle is—­”

“Our Rev. Luther Meeker, Mr. Trenholm.  We are dead men.”

CHAPTER XI

A COUNCIL OF WAR

“We are dead men,” repeated Riggs, smiling grimly.  “We’ll never see another day.  This slick devil will be back in Manila or up the China coast, praying his way out of the country with the gold cached somewhere to wait until he comes for it.  He can take enough of it with him to buy a schooner—­part of it is in Bank of England notes—­but the Rev. Luther Meeker will never be heard from again, because he sailed in the Kut Sang.”