Eyes wide with horror, the captain stood and edged away from the corpse, only to back into a wall of solid flesh. He whirled and saw Yakelev.

“What has happened?” the major said.

“It's incredible! Someone has killed the first mate.”

Yakelev nudged the bloody corpse with his boot. “Who could have done this?”

“No one.”

“No one slaughtered your mate like a pig? Come to your senses, Captain.”

Tovrov shook his head, unable to take his eyes off the mate's body. “I meant that I know all the crew well.” He paused. “All except the two new men.”

“What new men?” Yakelev's good eye blazed at Tovrov like a spotlight.

“I hired them two days ago as stokers. They were in the bar when I was talking to Federoff, and they came by later looking for berths. They looked like ruffians, but I was short of crew - ”

Uttering a curse, Yakelev pulled his pistol from its holster, shoved Tovrov aside and vaulted through the door, shouting commands to his men. Tovrov glanced at the first mate and vowed not to let the same thing happen to him without a fight. He tied the wheel, then he went into his stateroom and with trembling hands turned the combination dial on the ship's safe. Pulling out a 7.63-millimeter Mauser automatic, he unwrapped the soft velvet cloth protecting the gun, which he had acquired years before in a barter in the event of a mutiny, loaded the magazine, stuck the pistol in his belt and peered out the cabin door.

Descending to the lower deck, he peeked through the small circular window in the door that led to the passengers' quarters. The passageway was empty. He went down to the main deck and crept forward. In the glow of the deck lights, he saw the Cossacks crouched near the rail.

Suddenly, a small, dark object looped over the gunwale, bounced once and skittered along the wet deck, leaving a trail of sparks.

“Grenade!” someone yelled. Moving like quicksilver, Yakelev dove for the sputtering grenade, rolled onto his back and snapped the metal pineapple over the side. An explosion sounded, and the screams of pain that followed were drowned out as the Cossacks poured rifle fire into the mist. One guard leaned over with a sharp: knife and slashed the lines tied to several grappling hooks, then a boat engine roared, as if it had been given full throttle. The Cossacks continued to fire until the boat was out of range.

The major turned and his rifle snapped up to firing position. Then a grin crossed his face as he recognized the captain.

“You'd better put that toy away before you shoot yourself, Captain.”

Tovrov tucked the gun into his belt and walked over to Yakelev. “What happened?”