“I see,” she said. “Very well; here are the keys, but I do hope it will not be necessary to fight. I remember the Malacca Straits affair, when we had the entire crew to help us in defending the ship. Do you think that, situated as we now are, we should have any chance?”
“I don’t see why not,” I replied. “Although we are a wreck we can still show a rather formidable set of teeth,”—waving my hand toward the main-deck guns—“to say nothing of the two Maxims, upon which I shall principally pin my faith. The only thing that we must guard against is letting the rascals get too close before plainly declaring their intentions. But that should not be difficult.”
“Supposing they are enemies, and should beat us, what do you think our fate would be?” demanded the girl, coming close to me and laying her hand upon my arm in the earnestness of her questioning.
I drew in my breath sharply at the mere suggestion. “They must not be allowed to beat us,” I exclaimed harshly. “Such a possibility will not bear thinking of.”
“Ah! I understand. So you think it might be as bad as that,” returned my companion; and I saw the colour ebb from her cheeks and lips, leaving them white as marble, while her fingers closed like a vice upon my arm. “But if you should be hurt,” she continued, “what would happen then?”
“It mustn’t happen,” I exclaimed; “it mustn’t! I must take precautions of some sort to provide against such a possibility.”
“Of course,” she eagerly agreed. “But, supposing that in spite of your precautions you should be hurt—or killed,”—she shivered violently—“what then?”
“I will tell you,” I said, seizing both her hands in mine and crushing them, I fear, in the passion of horror which her persistence conjured up. “I will give you, your mother, and the stewardesses a revolver each, and if by evil chance that junk should prove to be an enemy, and should get the upper hand of us, you must shoot yourselves, rather than fall alive into the hands of the Chinamen! Of course you need not take such a desperate step until the very last moment, when it has become evident that escape is impossible; but when that moment arrives—do you think you will have the courage to do as I say?”
“Yes,” she whispered hoarsely. “I shall—and I will. But—oh! Walter, I hope, I pray, that we may none of us be driven to that frightful alternative. Now I must leave you, for I want to have a good heart-to-heart talk with Momma. But I shall see you again before—before—”
“Yes, yes,” I said hurriedly, for I saw that the poor girl was becoming a trifle overwrought, and I had an uncomfortable feeling that her emotion carried something of a contagious character with it. It was necessary to get away from emotionalism and down to the commonplaces of life once more, so I nodded smilingly at Anthea and ran briskly below, jingling the keys in my hand as I went.