"Come, sir," said MacAndrew, "I shall be glad if you would toast us. Let me remind you that there is no time to lose. It always pains me, in cases like the present, to have to apply physical argument when moral might produce the same result. In the event of your not drinking, as I request, perhaps Mr. Browne will be kind enough to permit us the use of his galley fire. The method, I admit, is barbarous; nevertheless it is occasionally effective."
The perspiration rolled down Maas's cheeks. Bantering as MacAndrew's tones were, he could still see that he was in deadly earnest.
Browne glanced out of the port-hole, and noticed that the man-o'-war's boat had left its own vessel. In less than a quarter of an hour it would be alongside, and then—— But he did not like to think of what would happen then.
"I will give you one more minute in which to drink it," rejoined MacAndrew, taking his watch from his pocket. "If you do not do so then you must be prepared to take the consequences."
Silence fell upon the group for a space, during which a man might perhaps have counted twenty.
"Half a minute," murmured MacAndrew, and Browne's heart beat so violently that it almost choked him.
"Three-quarters of a minute," continued MacAndrew. "Mr. Foote, would you mind giving me the revolver and standing by that door? I am afraid that we shall be driven into a tussle."
Jimmy did as he was requested, and another pause ensued.
"Time's up," said MacAndrew, shutting his watch with a click. "Now we must act. Mr. Browne, take his legs if you please."
They moved towards their victim, who shrank into a corner.