and the obsolete craft was now private property.

Before the Warner Lightship was abeam the fog enveloped the ship, so that her tugs were quite invisible. Captain Stalkart, the master of the leading tug, therefore eased down to half speed, reduced the scope of hawser by one half, and steered a compass course towards the English Channel. The tugs' syrens kept up a continuous and discordant bellow—one prolonged blast followed by two short blasts, signifying that they had a vessel in tow—for the appalling risks of a collision in a fog were more than doubled by reason of the fact that the unwieldy craft lumbering astern was almost incapable of being manoeuvred with any degree of celerity.

At 4.45 the master of the tug heard the characteristic blast of the reed-horn of the Owers Light vessel, and deeming that the warning came from a bearing well on his port bow, altered his course a couple of points to starboard.

Suddenly a black shape, distorted out of its proportion by the watery atmosphere, loomed up dead ahead. There was no attempt made by the vessel—for such it was—to give warning of her presence. She was simply forging ahead with bare steerage way.

Signalling to the rearmost tug to go full speed astern, the master of the leading tender promptly gave orders for the engines to be stopped. He dared not go astern, otherwise the momentum of the Impregnable would cause the giant vessel to overrun her diminutive escort. As it was the cruiser forged ahead till the tug was swept alongside.

Just then the mysterious vessel, that had made no attempt to get out of the way, went astern, and, describing a graceful curve, ran alongside the Impregnable. There was a rending of steel as the ex-cruiser's torpedonet-booms were shorn from their securing-lashings by the wall-sided vessel. The next instant fifty men poured upon the Impregnable's upper deck; hawsers were passed out and the two ships were soon locked in a close embrace.

Captain Stalkart, knowing that something was amiss, but ignorant of what had actually occurred, shouted through his megaphone for the other tug to come alongside. She promptly complied, making fast on the port side of the Impregnable, and slightly astern of the first tug.

Under the impression that a serious collision had occurred, and wishing to do his best to save the huge vessel he was towing, Stalkart gave orders for the powerful centrifugal pumps to be manned, and the suction-pipes to be led aboard the Impregnable; but ere the hoses could be coupled up a score of men armed with revolvers and automatic pistols lowered themselves over the cruiser's side, and on to the two tugs.

The phlegmatic Dutchmen, finding it useless to resist, promptly ran below, their retreat being hastened by a few pistol-shots fired over their heads. To do the crews of the tugs personal injury was evidently not the intention of the assailants.

As for Captain Stalkart, the minute he saw how things were turning out, he ran into the chart-room and seized a revolver. Fortunately for his own sake he did not attempt to fire, nor did the aggressors find him for some considerable time. During that interval he wrote a hurried message on one of the lifebuoys, and heaved it over the side.

Meanwhile, in addition to the work of pillaging both tugs of everything that might be of service, the modern buccaneers were busily engaged in transhipping stores, arms, and ammunition from the tramp to the Impregnable.

It was soon evident that they had laid their plans carefully beforehand, and that the capture of the Impregnable was not an act on the spur of the moment. From the hold of the steamer twenty-five seven-pounder quick-firers with their mountings were soon hauled up, and placed in position on the captured cruiser. Tons of oil were pumped into her double bottoms; water and provisions were stowed away in the usual tanks and store-rooms.

Down in the Impregnable's engine-room men—experienced mechanics—were overhauling the machinery. Only a few weeks before the cruiser had been in commission with a nucleus crew, and, as is usually the case, her engines had lacked proper attention, but in less than a couple of hours the filibusters had succeeded in firing the oil-fuel burners and raising steam.

This done the Dutchmen were ordered to come up from below, and were placed in one of the store-rooms of the after-flats of the cruiser. The Vulkan had been scuttled and was sinking fast, but ere she dropped beneath the waves her master, the taciturn Stalkart, rushed from the chart-room, where he had been concealed, on to the bridge. Volubly cursing and shaking his fist at the rascally crowd who had sunk his ship, the captain remained bravely at his post, scorning the gestures that indicated that he should save himself.

The Vulkan's bows rose high in the air as her stern slipped beneath the surging cauldron of foam. In another instant the loyal skipper would have gone to his doom, when a lariat whizzed through the air. The noose tightened round Stalkart's portly waist, and, amid a round of jeers and ironical laughter, the Dutchman was hauled ignominiously but effectively on board the Impregnable.

The second tug suffered a similar fate; but just then a lifting of the fog revealed the presence of the ss. Wontwash.

For a few moments all was confusion, the crowd of men on the Impregnable's deck running below to hide themselves from the inquisitive gaze of the undesirable steamer. The Dutchmen, thinking that assistance was at hand, began to clamour for aid, till quieted by the silent threat of a revolver being pointed at them.

Seizing a megaphone the leader of the pirates—for that they were to all intents and purposes—sprang upon the fore-bridge.

"You vill clear out of dis!" he shouted. "No vant 'elp; go 'way."

The Wontwash's skipper was completely taken aback. Naturally he was at first under the impression that the tramp alongside the Impregnable was engaged in salvage work, and did not want outside interference that might lead to reduction of the salvage court's award; but when he saw that the steamer alongside bore no name, and that the men were far in excess of the number of an ordinary crew, and, in addition, armed, he decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and promptly did as he had been peremptorily told—he sheered off.

Directly the Wontwash was lost to view in the still thick haze men were lowered over the taffrail of the vessel that had effected the seizure of the battle-cruiser, and the words "Steephill Castle, Hull," were prominently painted on her stern. Ere this was completed the final stages of transferring the stores were finished, and the Impregnable's propellers began to revolve slowly.

The vessels then parted company, the pseudo Steephill Castle proceeding up Channel, while the Impregnable, steaming at a steady fifteen knots, headed due south.

Forty miles from the Sussex shore she eased down. The word Impregnable was erased from her stern and Independencia substituted. Her crew were mustered aft, divided into port and starboard watches, and told off to their respective quarters. The men were literally the scum of the Mediterranean ports—Greeks, Italians, Spaniards, Algerines, and Egyptians, with a renegade Englishman (formerly a naval petty officer) as bo'sun. The officers were mostly Spaniards, the captain being a native of Barcelona, and a member of a formidable Anarchist society.

All hands knew that theirs was a desperate and unlawful enterprise—piracy. The stake was a high one, the inducements great. In a few days all hands would either be wealthy or doomed to an ignominious end.

Juan Cervillo, the leader of the rascally crew, was a Spaniard of good family He had served as an officer in the Spanish Navy; but, imbued with revolutionary sentiments, he became mixed up in an anti-monarchist plot. Exposed, he was