For him to reach the fuse in his weakened condition was impossible; but, if he could regain his feet and kick the cup over the coffee that remained in it might quench the fire of the fuse.
Three times he endeavored to draw himself erect by means of the table, but succeeded only in dropping backward as though pushed by a heavy, resistless hand. But the fourth time he managed to remain upright, trembling with the strain he had put upon himself.
It seemed a trifling thing to overset the coffee-cup, but Motor Matt had never planned a harder task.
There are but few things in this life, however, that will not yield to pluck and determination, and fortune favored Matt in his grave fight.
The Grampus pitched forward, rising aft and making a steep incline of the floor. Matt's feet slipped, and he lost his hold on the table. As he came heavily down he shot against a stool, which was overturned and upset the cup. The liquid in the cup had slopped over the sides, and with the overturning a miniature wave of brown rolled along the inclined floor.
There followed a hiss as it engulfed the tiny blaze at the end of the fuse, and then a little spiral of smoke eddied upward.
This much Matt saw, and a fierce exultation ran through him. The bomb was harmless—but where was Ah Sin? Would he not come back, discover what Matt had accomplished, and again set a match to the fuse?
This might happen, but there was nothing Motor Matt could do to prevent it.
He had taken only a few swallows of the coffee, and to this, and to his superior powers of endurance, was due the fact that he had kept his senses and a remnant of his strength long enough to accomplish what he had.
But now a wave of darkness rolled over him. As unconscious of what was taking place around him as he was helpless to prevent further disaster, his head fell back and he lay as one dead among his silent and motionless companions.