"Drive them forward to the foc'sle."
Sievers obeyed, and very soon five splendidly upholstered, but shamefaced-looking gentlemen, three stewards, and four sailors were standing underneath the beacon light before the forecastle companion. Maclean noted that already many of the Saigon's men carried swords and carbines. He watched the rest arm themselves with the Nevski sailors' discarded weapons as they marched their prisoners along the deck. His breast began to swell with pride.
"Any casualties?" he demanded.
"Two of ours have crossed over," replied Sievers, "and some of us are hurt a bit. But we can't grumble. There are four Russian corpses aft, and I see you've bagged seven."
"Damned pirates!" commented Maclean. "I've a mind to shoot the rest of them out of hand."
"Just give the word, sir."
"No," said Maclean, "we'll maroon them instead. Lower away all the boats but one, Sievers, and bring them under the bows. I can look after these dogs!"
"Ay, ay, sir. But first three cheers for Captain Maclean, lads!"
The cheers were given with hearty good-will, and then the men tramped off to carry out their new task.
Maclean, whose face was still flushed from the compliment that had been paid him, leaned over the machine-gun and surveyed the prisoners.