He opened a locker on the bridge leisurely, and took out a revolver.
"I have no regrets," he said—it was a challenge to fate.
Then he shot himself and fell dead at the feet of the two. Baggin sprang forward, but too late.
"You coward!" he screamed. He shook his fist in the dead man's face, then he turned like a wild beast on Poltavo. "This is the end of it! This is the end of your scheme! Curse you! Curse you!"
He leapt at the Russian's throat.
For a moment they swayed and struggled, then suddenly Baggin released his hold, dropped his head like a tired man, and slid to the deck.
Count Poltavo flung the knife overboard, and lit a cigarette with a hand that did not tremble.
* * * * * * *
One last expiring effort the Maria Braganza made; you could almost follow Poltavo, as he sped from one side of the ship to the other, by the spasmodic shots that came from the doomed ship.
Then four men-of-war detached themselves from the encircling fleets and steamed in toward the Brazilian. Shell after shell beat upon the steel hull of the "Mad Battleship," a great hole gaped in her side, her funnels were shot away, her foremast hung limply.