by Morgan Robertson

The little destroyer rounded to alongside, and slowed down to a little more than the speed of the larger ship, which permitted her to creep along the huge, black side, inch by inch, until the bridges were nearly abreast. Then a white-whiskered man on the high bridge hailed:

'Steamer ahoy! What do you want?'

'Want all that bullion stowed in your strong room,' answered Forsythe through a megaphone. 'Load your gold into one of your own boats, the provisions in another. Lower them down and let the falls unreeve, so that they will go adrift. We will pick them up.