CHAPTER XII

THE FIGHT ON THE POOP Levelling his automatic, Forsyth fired at the Chinaman's head. The man pitched forward, his body twitching convulsively. The next instant the lean man drew a revolver and fired. The bullet whizzed perilously close to Forsyth's head. Before the Chinaman could let rip with a second shot, Forsyth fired twice in quick succession. The man threw up his arms, toppled backwards against the taffrail, and fell with a resounding splash into the creamy wake of the swiftly-moving craft. "Two of 'em," ch…