As a matter of fact Theriere had had no intention of carrying the matter as far as he had intimated to Billy except as a last resort.  He had been mightily smitten by the face and fortune of Barbara Harding and had seen in the trend of events a possible opportunity of so deeply obligating her father and herself that when he paid court to her she might fall a willing victim to his wiles.  In this case he would be obliged to risk nothing, and could make away with his accomplices by explaining to Mr. Harding that he had been compelled to concoct this other scheme to obtain their assistance against Simms and Ward; then they could throw the three into irons and all would be lovely; but now that fool Ward had upset the whole thing by hitting upon this asinine fire hoax as an excuse for boarding the Lotus in force, and had further dampened Theriere’s pet scheme by suggesting to Skipper Simms the danger of Theriere being recognized as they were boarding the Lotus and bringing suspicion upon them all immediately.

They all knew that a pleasure yacht like the Lotus was well supplied with small arms, and that at the first intimation of danger there would be plenty of men aboard to repel assault, and, in all probability, with entire success.

That there were excellent grounds for Theriere’s belief that he could win Barbara Harding’s hand with such a flying start as his daring plan would have assured him may not be questioned, for the man was cultivated, polished and, in a sinister way, good-looking.  The title that he had borne upon the occasion of his visit to the yacht, was, all unknown to his accomplices, his by right of birth, so that there was nothing other than a long-dead scandal in the French Navy that might have proved a bar to an affiance such as he dreamed of.  And now to be thwarted at the last moment!  It was unendurable.  That pig of a Ward had sealed his own death warrant, of that Theriere was convinced.

The boats were now quite close to the yacht, which had slowed down almost to a dead stop.  In answer to the query of the Lotus’ captain Skipper Simms was explaining their trouble.

“I’m Captain Jones,” he shouted, “of the brigantine Clarinda, Frisco to Yokohama with dynamite.  We disabled our rudder yesterday, an’ this afternoon fire started in the hold.  It’s makin’ headway fast now, an’ll reach the dynamite most any time.  You’d better take us aboard, an’ get away from here as quick as you can.  ’Tain’t safe nowhere within five hun’erd fathom of her.”

“You’d better make haste, Captain, hadn’t you?” suggested Mr. Harding.

“I don’t like the looks of things, sir,” replied that officer.  “She ain’t flyin’ any dynamite flag, an’ if she was an’ had a hold full there wouldn’t be any particular danger to us, an’ anyone that has ever shipped dynamite would know it, or ought to.  It’s not fire that detonates dynamite, it’s concussion.  No sir, Mr. Harding, there’s something queer here—­I don’t like the looks of it.  Why just take a good look at the faces of those men.  Did you ever see such an ugly-looking pack of unhung murderers in your life, sir?”