"The magazine takes a clip of ten rounds of .202 ammunition," announced Captain Brookes, as he pulled out the "cut-off" and thrust a cartridge into the chamber. "Now, listen."
Bringing the rifle to his shoulder the captain pressed the trigger. Beyond the slight recoil and a faint hiss there was nothing to indicate that the weapon had been discharged, until the still-smoking cartridge-case was ejected.
"I am applying this principle to all our ordnance, from the 6in. down to the revolver. It means a great moral advantage to be in a position to launch a hail of charged shells with a complete absence of sound," continued the captain, as he handed back the weapon. "Now we will——"
"Sail-ho!" came a hail from the bridge.
"Where away?" demanded the captain, in stentorian tones.
"Dead ahead, sir."
"That's the Puma, I'll be bound. Mr. Tregarthen, we must postpone the remainder of our inspection for awhile. In the meantime you'll find Mr. Stockton in your cabin. You may inform him that he has the run of the ship, with the exception, of course, of the conning-tower."
So saying, Captain Brookes hurried off to the bridge, the speed of the Olive Branch was reduced to less than twenty knots, and preparations were begun for opening communications with the Puma, which was already within five miles when Tregarthen went below to rejoin his companion.
"It's settled, Jack; you are to stay aboard the Olive Branch," he exclaimed.
"Yes, I know, thanks to you. They've told me that I'm to share your cabin."