"Hell!" he exploded. "What are we going to do if the brute starts running amok—and letting out the others? Anything may happen. There may be a free fight—murder—anything! . . . Those females, too. . . ."
He broke off dramatically and I could see at once that his real fear was that the gorilla (and consequently the glands) chosen for Sally Rebecca might be damaged.
"We can't do anything to-night. . . ." I began.
"Can't we?" he cried. "If you think I'm going to leave that hulking brute in charge of the ship you were never more mistaken in your life. Who'll come with me?"
Silence! Who, indeed, would board that vessel and face heaven knew what horrible peril?
"Listen to me, Gran'pa. . . ."
"Very well!" he snapped. "I'll go myself! I'm not afraid! . . . Come alongside. . . . That's right!"
In spite of our remonstrances and arguments, Gran'pa clambered into our boat, turned Captain Morgan and Molly out into the other one, and ordered the crew to take them ashore at once.
A couple of minutes later, Croft and Gran'pa and I were staring up at the dark hull of "The Pilgrim Father"—surely one of the most strangely manned vessels which ever rode the seas.
For all we knew to the contrary, its crew consisted solely of over twenty escaped gorillas—lying in wait, watching, scheming. The first human being to board such a ship might be torn to pieces in an instant, and yet—