and called for silence in a voice that would have split a berg. A deathlike stillness succeeded; you could hear the wash of the waves and the moaning of the wind: two hundred upturned faces shone ghastly white under the spreading beams which the cruiser's lantern cast upon them.
"Boys," cried Black, "yonder's a Government ship. You know me, that I don't run after war-scum every day, for that's not my business. But we're short of oil, and the cylinders are heating. If we don't get it in twenty-four hours, there'll be devil's work, and we shan't do it. Boys, it's swing or take that ship and the oil aboard her—which'll you have?"
There was no doubt about their answer—there could be none. In one way it was almost as if the cruiser herself gave reply, for there was the roar of a great gun when Black had finished speaking, and a shot hissed from above our poop and burst in the seas beyond us. A mighty shout followed, but was converted instantly into a cry of warning, as the forward hands sang out—
"Look out aft—the torpedo!" and other hands took up the cry, yelling "The torpedo! The torpedo!"
The tiny line of foam was just visible for a second in the way of the light; but, the moment the cruiser had shot it from her tube, she extinguished her arc, leaving us to light the waters with our own. There was no difficulty whatever
