CHAPTER XXVII.
EXCITING WORK.
Fingal was a big fellow, and Bob remembered with a shudder the crushing embrace of his huge arms at the time the crew of the submarine were routed. But Bob, with so many to help him, was not worrying over the outcome. What caused him the most concern was the thought that, in spite of their precautions, there would be noise enough to alarm the two men who were playing cards.
Fingal came down the ladder slowly. Fortunately for those below he kept his gaze upward as he descended. When he reached the foot of the ladder his face was toward the after bulkhead of the periscope room, and those who were waiting were behind.
At a signal from Bob the attack was made. Bob himself sprang at Fingal’s throat and caught his bull-like neck in a strangling grip. Like a huge animal, Fingal pushed himself around. Speake had one of his arms and Dick the other. Clackett, bending down caught his feet and jerked them off the floor.
Fighting furiously, Fingal was thus thrown bodily into the hands and arms of Bob, Dick, and Speake. They were not expecting to receive the heavy weight, and the huge body crashed to the floor. Bob’s grip about Fingal’s throat was wrenched loose, and a half-strangled bellow of fury went up from the desperate scoundrel.
Feet stamped the deck. There was no need of a demand from those above as to what was going on, for both the men knew that there was trouble. Fingal would not have bellowed in that fashion if there had not been.
“Never mind the noise, now,” panted Bob. “We’re in for it, and we must be quick.”
One of the other men already had his feet on the ladder. Leaving Dick, Speake, and Clackett to handle Fingal, Bob jumped up the ladder, caught the descending feet, and flung his whole weight on them.
As a result, the man’s hands were torn from the iron rungs, and he and Bob tumbled in a heap on the floor of the periscope room.