Bang!
A stateroom door closed just before the two young officers reached it.
Click! That told the story of a bolt shot into place.
"You may as well open!" called Jack, coolly. "We have ample force for breaking down that door!"
Crack! In that confined space the discharge of a pistol sounded almost deafening. A line of red shot through the stateroom door. The bullet from the weapon whizzed between Jack Benson and Eph Somers, the missile burying itself in wood across the passage.
Crack! Crack!
With that desperate fellow the other side of the door, shooting through the key-hole, it was worse than folly to remain in line of range.
Yet Jack and Eph retorted coolly, with the dignity of officers.
"My man," requested Lieutenant Jack, turning to one of the sailors, "hand me your revolver."
Taking the weapon, Benson glanced at it a second or two, then raised the weapon, sighting for the top of the stateroom door.