“Then even these revolutionists can’t trust each other!” exclaimed Bob. “With such a lack of confidence as that, if it extends to the rank and file, the insurrection will prove a farce. Just——”
At that moment some one landed heavily on the deck of the submarine. Bob straightened erect and stepped to the foot of the ladder. Looking up, he saw Clackett gazing down.
“There are two men comin’, Bob!” reported Clackett. “One of em’s Don Carlos, an’ the other wears a red coat with shoulder straps and has a sword.”
“Some officer, I suppose,” said Bob. “Come down here, quick, Clackett, and tell Dick to follow you, but not to cut the cable. Speake!” he called through one of the tubes.
“What is it?” came back the voice of Speake.
“Up here with you! More work.”
Speake, tumbling up from below, and Dick and Clackett, dropping down from above, reached the periscope room at about the same time. Bob had been replacing the gag between Pedro’s lips.
“Drag the prisoners into the room where they were keeping us,” said Bob. “There’s going to be more lively work here, and we’ve got to clear decks for action.”
While Speake, Clackett, and Dick fell to with a will, half dragging and half carrying the prisoners into the steel chamber off the periscope room, Bob kept close to the periscope and watched the bank above the landing.
Then, just as his comrades finished their work and returned to his side, he gave vent to an exclamation and whirled away from the periscope table.