“You—here?” hissed Truax, wheeling about.

He had not had time to make the thrust with the steel bar.

Instead, as he wheeled, he raised it above his head, drawing back in an
attitude of guard.

As he did so, a vile oath escaped Truax’s lips.

“Put that bar down!” commanded Jack Benson, standing unflinchingly before
the angry rascal.

“I’ll put it down on your head, if you don’t get out of here!” snarled the
wretch.

“Put it down, and consider yourself off duty here, for good and all,”
insisted Jack.

“Are you going to get out of here, or shall I brain you?” screamed Truax,
his face working in the height of his passion.

“Neither,” retorted Captain Jack, coolly. “I command here, and you know
it. Put that bar down, and leave the engine room.”

“Come and take the bar from me—if you dare!” taunted the fellow, a more
wicked gleam flashing in his eyes.

“Hal!” called Jack, sharply.

“Aye!”