“You are welcome to try—just as soon as we get back to Belize,” said Bob. “If this matter is aired, it won’t sound very well when your government hears of it.”
A mocking light crossed the don’s angry face.
“I’m not afraid of my government,” he exclaimed.
“Throw it overboard, Speake,” said Bob, handing the revolver to Speake. “We don’t need that thing here. If I can’t have obedience on the Grampus without looking at her crew over the sights of a gun, I don’t want it.”
Speake, without a word, took the revolver and went up the ladder into the conning tower.
“From this on, Don Ramon Ortega,” said Bob, “you will consider yourself a passenger. I will treat you better than your conduct demands, and will not make a prisoner of you unless you attempt to interfere with the management of the boat. Do you understand that?”
The don muttered something under his breath, and before Bob could speak further, a shout came from Speake.
“Small boat off the starboard beam, close in!”
“By Jupiter!” exclaimed Gaines, pushing farther into the hood of the periscope. “Look here, Bob!”