“What are you going to do about it?” asked Dick quietly.
“Well, I am not going to see him carry this thing much farther,” asserted the other. “He thinks I am a chump. He doesn’t know that I am dead sore on him. Your little finger is more of a man than the whole of his worthless body.”
“Thank you!” returned Merriwell, with a grim smile. “But that does me little good. Whoever tied me up this way certainly fixed me good and solid. I have tried my best to get my hands free, but I can’t budge them.”[them.”]
“See here,” said Moran, “the whole crew is drunk and reckless. If I am caught—well, I don’t care, I will chance it. Here, let me get at those cords! Quick!”
Dick turned on the locker so that Moran was able to get at the cords which bound the captive boy’s hands behind his back. Working swiftly, the young bruiser loosened the cords until it seemed certain that Dick could free himself with a very small effort.
“Now let them be just that way,” said Moran. “They will think you are all safe and solid. When the time comes I’ll get you out of this.”
“I will see that you lose nothing by it,” promised Dick.
“Oh, that’s all right. I ain’t——Keep still! Here he comes!”
Chester was heard talking to some one as he once more stumbled down the companionway, and he was followed by Lazaro and two sailors on entering the cabin. He had the keys, and in a few minutes the wine locker was opened and a bottle of whisky produced.
“Now,” cried Chet, “we will all drink! Mr. Merriwell will take a drink! I have brought some men with me who will see that he takes a drink! If he refuses they will strip him and give him a taste of the rope’s end.”