During the afternoon the chief steward reported the result of his observations upon the pseudo Duncan McDonald. The man, he declared, was a regular "hanger-on" to his fellow-passengers. He seemed to have plenty of money and squandered it at card-playing. Yet he did not associate with the German passengers, nor could the steward discover who was the woman that had conferred with McDonald on the night when Aubyn and Raeburn had him under observation.
Just before seven bells the arrangements were completed for von Eckenhardt's arrest. Terence and the fourth engineer took up their positions in the empty storeroom; two burly quartermasters were hiding just inside the engine-room door, while Tretheway, in the guise of the now detained Stone, was idling in the alley-way.
Presently von Eckenhardt appeared. Tretheway, keeping his face from the light, turned his back upon the approaching German.
Twice the fellow walked softly past the supposed Stone, then tapping him on the shoulder said something in German. What it was Tretheway did not understand, but acting upon instructions he turned and grasped the Teuton by the wrists. Aubyn and Raeburn dashed from their place of concealment and the two quartermasters ran towards the spot.
Taken wholly at a disadvantage von Eckenhardt at first offered no resistance. He sullenly regarded his captors, without uttering a word. Then, with a sudden effort, he almost wrenched himself clear.
Raeburn, doubled up by a knee-punch in the wind, subsided heavily against the metal wall of the alley-way. The two quartermasters cannoned into each other in attempting to regain their grip upon the captive. Tretheway, hit upon the point of the chin, tripped over the coaming of the engine-room doorway; while Terence, in spite of a vicious kick on the shin, managed to retain his hold upon von Eckenhardt's collar.
To and fro they swayed, now locked in a deathly embrace. Before the quartermasters could recover their wits, Aubyn and the German toppled over the coaming, and on top of the body of the prostrate Tretheway.
Inside the door was a slippery steel platform, barely three feet in width and protected by a light handrail. To the right and left iron ladders led to the floor of the engine-room. Seven feet below the edge of the platform was the piston-head of one of the cylinders—a vision of gleaming metal partly veiled by wreathes of eddying steam.
In an instant Terence realized his adversary's plan. Rather than submit to being made a prisoner von Eckenhardt was striving to throw himself into the midst of the moving machinery. And not only that: he meant to take one at least of his antagonists with him. He, Terence, was the one singled out for this wholly unwelcome attention.
In vain Aubyn tried to get a foothold. The slippery iron plate afforded no grip. His arms, locked about the body of the German, were imprisoned by the fellow's powerful grasp, for although small in stature and sparely built, frenzy had given the German the strength of a Hercules. Suddenly von Eckenhardt planted his feet against the inside sill of the door. With a terrific jerk he hurled himself under the handrail. Aubyn had just time to bend his partially held wrist and grasp the stanchion; then both men dropped over the edge immediately above the ponderous machinery.