“Aye!”
Micky shook his head.
“We’re not martyrs,” he suggested cuttingly. “There may be a better way to get rid of the scum of Siberia.”
“Set the hooker on fire?”
“We’ll roast with it!”
“Ah’ll think it over, then.”
Mike Monkey disappeared through the bulkhead door. Micky watched the engines for a long minute. He raised his eyes and saw a shadow cross the companion opening. A second bayonet joined the first. Ivan had posted two guards to watch the three men between decks. The big Russian also signaled for more speed. He was answered by oaths from Mike Monkey and Red Landyard.
A long, hot day passed. The heat of the stokehold and engine-room was a thing to remember.
The three castaways sweated beneath the menace of the two bayonets and Ivan’s brutal oaths. The sounds from the deck were those of a madhouse. It was evident that the citizen captain did not know his position on the ocean. Once the Shongpong headed due south. Her course was changed to northeast. She steadied and clamped onward, holding an uncertain path.