He was over the side of the Cumberland in a few moments, and was soon being rowed swiftly back toward Duala.
Several hundred yards from the little landing, his cars caught the sound of a great hubbub. There were cries and shouts and general confusion.
Rapidly the lad covered the intervening distance, leaped to the ground and sprinted in the direction in which he could see a knot of wildly gesticulating figures.
"Sounds to me like Frank was in trouble of some kind," he panted to himself as he ran along, for at that moment he had detected the sound of his friend's voice raised in anger.
Jack dashed up to the knot of men, all of whom lie now perceived were British sailors, and as he saw his friend standing calmly in the center of them unhurt, he paused on the edge of the crowd to watch developments.
With a flush on his face, plainly evident in the red glow of a camp fire, Frank stood facing a man. The latter, in height, topped the lad by a good three inches, and even from where he stood Jack could see that the man's fingers twitched nervously at his side.
"I am in command here until further notice," Frank was saying, "and while I am, our captives will receive such treatment as is due prisoners of war. Do you understand that, Mr. Stanley?"
"Bah!" cried the other, whom Jack now recognized as an officer aboard the Cumberland; "by seniority I am your superior officer. I am not answerable to you for my actions."
"Aren't you?" exclaimed Frank, taking a threatening step forward, a peculiar glint in his eyes. "We'll see about that later. In the meantime understand that I am in command here and that what I say goes. Molest another of the prisoners and you shall answer to me."
"Is that so?" sneered Stanley. "And what do you think you'll do about it?"