"Then let's strike. Give them their answer. Strike!"
It was the German dock foreman who had leaped to his feet and was striding up and down the aisle in defiance of the gavel beating for order. One after another the 'longshoremen joined in his cry, hypnotized by his apparent earnestness, eager to follow his evident leadership.
"Strike, Strike! We'll bring these shipowners to their senses. What have they done for us?"
In the overturned hulk of the Arsulus, still fighting the death that seemed imminent, the members of the Criminology Club racked their brains for a means of escape from the waters threatening to engulf them.
Grant reached out a hand in the darkness and encountered a clenched fist. "Cavanaugh, is that you?"
"Yes," the reply bordered on a gasp.
"Some kind of crating here.
