The blue lightnings were playing now unchecked about the top of the
Marconi room. Another more imperative signal flew from the pirate
ship. A minute later there was a puff of white smoke, a loud report,
and a shell burst in the sea, fifty yards ahead. Crawshay edged up to
where Jocelyn Thew was standing.

"This is a damned unpleasant affair," he said.

"It is," was the grim reply.

"You know it's the _Blucher_?"

"No doubt about that."

"What on earth are we up to?" Crawshay continued, in a dissatisfied
tone. "We haven't even replied to her signals."

"It appears to me," Jocelyn Thew pronounced irritably, "that we are
going to try and get away. I never heard of such lunacy. They can blow
us to pieces if they want to."

Crawshay shivered.

"I think," he protested, "that some one ought to remonstrate with the
captain. Look, there's another shell coming! Damned ugly things!"

There was another puff of white smoke, and this time the projectile
fell within a steamer's length of them, sending a great fountain of
water into the air. "They are giving us plenty of warning," Jocelyn
Thew observed coolly. "I suppose we shall get the next one amidships."