A group somewhat larger than the rest had assembled about the captain’s cabin. A close observer would have noticed that each man among these different groups wore a peculiar little button in the lapel of his coat.
Each group was silent. It appeared that they were waiting for something. Now a young man appeared and spoke to the first group holding his open watch in his hand. Then he passed on to the next, then to the next, until he had approached all. Then he took his place with the others near the bridge, and waited, watch in hand.
Suddenly he pulled a little whistle from his pocket, put it to his lips, waited a moment, and then blew a shrill blast, that penetrated to the farthest part of the ship.
Instantly the various groups of men wearing the button of peculiar design came to action.
The passengers on the promenade deck, the Willing party among them, found themselves under the muzzles of many revolvers. On the gallery, the deck, the main salon, the grand stairway a like condition prevailed.
Only the men who guarded the exit from the engine and boiler rooms were inactive, but these stood with drawn revolvers.
A dozen men swarmed from the bridge into the wheel house, where they confronted the pilot, the Captain, the first and second officers, who chanced to be there together. Officers in other parts of the ship also had been held up.
The surprise had been complete. The Yucatan was at the mercy of this army of conspirators, whoever they chanced to be.
Shirley and Mabel had eyed the strange proceedings upon their section of the ship with no less amazement than the rest of the passengers. Mr. Willing, Colonel Ashton and Dick were equally astonished.
“What is it, a wholesale hold-up?” demanded the colonel.