"Twenty minutes!" Channing said. "Good God! Twenty minutes!"
He had been to hell and back again in twenty minutes. He had seen an
empire, which had begun with Christopher Columbus and which had
spread over two continents, wiped off the map in twenty minutes. The
captain gave a sudden cry of concern. "Mr. Keating," he gasped. "Oh,
Lord, but I forgot Mr. Keating. Where is Mr. Keating?"
"I went below twice," Channing answered. "He's insensible. See what
you can do with him, but first--take me to the Iowa. The Consolidated
Press will want the 'facts.'"
In the dark cabin the captain found Keating on the floor, where
Channing had dragged him, and dripping with the water which Channing
had thrown in his face. He was breathing heavily, comfortably. He was
not concerned with battles.
With a megaphone, Channing gathered his facts from an officer of the
Iowa, who looked like a chimney-sweep, and who was surrounded by a
crew of half-naked pirates, with bodies streaked with sweat and
powder.
Then he ordered all steam for Port Antonio, and, going forward to the
chart-room, seated himself at the captain's desk, and, pushing the
captain's charts to the floor, spread out his elbows, and began to
write the story of his life.
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