“Could have sworn I locked the jolly old thing,” he muttered. “Perhaps I didn’t, though.”
The revolver, fully loaded, was reposing in a holster and sandwiched between his great coat and one of his tropical uniforms. Somewhere in the chest he had stowed an unopened packet of service ammunition. At least, he thought he had, but it was not to be found.
Slamming the lid of the chest, Raxworthy left his cabin, breaking the revolver as he did so in order to reassure himself that the weapon was fully loaded. The heads of six brass cartridge cases showed themselves in the chambers. So far so good!
III
Raxworthy almost collided with the third officer who had come out of his cabin with a small American revolver in his right hand.
“Keep your weather eye lifting!” cautioned the latter. “Here! Get behind me!”
Without ceremony he pushed the midshipman on one side and continued his way along the otherwise deserted alleyway. Overhead pandemonium reigned.
The third officer’s bulky form obstructed the companion way. Raxworthy saw his shoulder moved as he raised his right arm. Through the gap between the third’s body and the jamb the midshipman caught a glimpse of a mob of Chinese, some armed with automatics, others brandishing broad-bladed knives and iron bars.
The third fired in rapid succession—six shots at about five yards’ range. Then he dropped on his hands and knees across the raised coaming of the companion-way.
That left Raxworthy’s outlook almost unimpeded. He was standing on the third step of the ladder from the top, and his waist was nearly level with the luckless Englishman.