The stout door was immovable. One panel gave, however. Through this opening an arm was thrust. A funnel of crimson fire stabbed the night. A bullet clipped a piece from the rail. A roar sounded as a second shot was fired from an American revolver.
Fay staggered to one side of the door and wiped his face. He had not been struck. The blood that showed was from the old stone bruise. A sailor clutched his arm. He swiftly turned.
“There’s a crazy man in that cabin,� he explained. “Open it up so I can see what is the matter with him.�
“I dank you better look out,� said the seaman. “I dank I better see der capitan. Ya, dat fellow is crazy!�
Dutch Gus thrust out the automatic revolver. A Holland mate appeared and swung down from the boat deck. He stared at Fay and then at the smashed panel.
The cracksman pointed toward the door.
“You’ve got a mad passenger. He almost killed me. You should put him in irons,� he declared firmly.
The mate glanced at Fay. He turned and advanced toward the cabin door. The automatic was jerked inside. A table or shelf was held over the opening. The crook was taking no chances. He had barricaded himself inside the cabin! A mattress and a blanket were stuffed in the opening.
Fay saw the uselessness of arguing the matter. A bo’swain and two seamen conferred with the mate. A purser came up. Fay grasped his arm and asked:
“Where is the lady I was with? What is the number of her cabin?�