"Speak!" roared Somers, drawing his pistol.
"Shoot me, Somers. I will thank you if you will. It is better to be shot dead, than to be blown up, mangled, and then, after enduring a moment or an hour of agony, to be drowned. Fire, Somers!"
He restored the revolver to his belt, appalled by the terrible picture which the villain painted.
"Somers, I did leave my state-room. I was not willing to acknowledge it before your crew."
"How?"
"I have not time to explain. There are but ten minutes of life left to you and me. We will not waste them in what is of so little consequence to either of us. You know of what the cargo of the Ben Nevis is composed?"
"I do—of arms, ammunition, and provisions."
"Correct; the ammunition is stowed in the after part of the ship—under us, in fact. Captain Walmsley and myself have laid a train by which the vessel will be blown up when four bells strike. It wants five minutes of the time. Captain Walmsley is in a position where he can hear the bell," continued Pillgrim with perfect coolness.
"Marine," said Somers, opening the door.
"Here, sir," responded the man.