From where he had been crouching he could not command my window. But now, upon the heels of his placating words, he abruptly shot. The low-powered ray, had it struck, would have felled me without killing. But it went over my head as I dropped. Its aura made my senses reel.
Coniston shouted, “Haljan!”
I did not answer. I wondered if he would dare approach to see if I had been hit. A minute passed. Then another. I thought I heard Miko’s voice on the deck outside. But it was an aerial, microscopic whisper close beside me.
“We see you, Haljan! You must yield!”
Their eavesdropping vibrations, with audible projection, were upon me. I retorted aloud.
“Come and get me! You cannot take me alive.”
I do protest if this action of mine in the chart-room may seem bravado. I had no wish to die. There was within 346 me a very healthy desire for life. But I felt, by holding out, that some chance might come wherewith I might turn events against these brigands. Yet reason told me it was hopeless. Our loyal members of the crew were killed, no doubt. Captain Carter and Balch were killed. The lookouts and Course-masters also. And Blackstone.
There remained only Dr. Frank and Snap. Their fate I did not yet know. And there was George Prince. He, perhaps, would help me if he could. But, at best, he was a dubious ally.
“You are very foolish, Haljan,” murmured the projection of Miko’s voice. And then I heard Coniston: