“What under the sun——”
“Oh!” gasped Ruth, hearing Boldig outside. “Here he comes! He has been so brutal—so disgusting! Oh, Tom!”
Her friend wheeled and leaped up the stair again. As he went he drew the automatic pistol from his bosom where he had hidden it and kept it dry. As Boldig thrust back the door Tom pushed the muzzle of his weapon against the man’s breast.
“Up with your hands!” Tom commanded. “Quick!”
Boldig fell back a pace. Tom followed him out on the open deck. He reached quickly and snatched the pistol from the German’s holster with his left hand.
Then, his eye flickering to the men at the rail and seeing the flaxen-haired man trying to draw his pistol, Tom sent one bullet in that direction. The man, Guelph, sank, groaning, to the deck.
“Pick up that pistol, muzzle first, and bring it here!” commanded Tom to Fritz, and the latter obeyed quite meekly. Neither he nor the third seaman was armed. After all, Boldig did not trust his underlings.
“How shall we get your two friends out of their rooms?” Tom asked Ruth without looking around at her, for he kept his gaze upon Boldig and the others.
“That man has the keys to their staterooms.”
“Come and search his pockets,” said Tom. “Don’t stand between me and him. Understand?” he added to Boldig. “I will shoot to kill if you try any tricks. Keep your hands up!”