Crash-sh!
Speech, low but intense, came floating over the water. The smugglers were out and evidently looking for their dory. Baffled in their search, they began shouting.
"Hilloo-oo! On shore! Shane! Parsons! Herb! Terry! Are you all dead? Come out and take us off! Somebody's scuttled the sloop and locked us down in the cabin! Just wait till we get ashore! We'll fix those boys! Ahoy there! Our boat's gone! Come and get us!"
Jim pressed Roger's arm.
"Ready! Here comes one of 'em!"
Somebody was running toward them from the fish-house. A black figure suddenly loomed up, close at hand.
"What's the trouble out there, Herb? Dolph and the cap are yelling like stuck pigs! Hear 'em! Guess I'd better go out to 'em in the other dory, don't you think? Shane can handle the Chinos—"
His voice shut off in a terrified gurgle. A strong hand forcibly sealed his lips and two pairs of muscular arms held him powerless, while Percy, darting from the cabin with a coil of rope, relieved him of his automatic and tied him firmly under Jim's whispered directions. Soon he, too, lay beside his comrades.
"Shut the door a minute, Filippo!" ordered Jim. "Now," he continued, briskly, "I guess we've got 'em coppered. We'll do up that man in the fish-house in short order. By the way, Throppy, did you raise the cutter before the captain smashed your instrument?"
"Don't know," answered Stevens. "I was so busy calling for help that I didn't wait for any reply."