The general was more than anxious to oblige, but fate was against anything like haste. The sharp points of his spurs galled him, and when his spurs ceased from troubling, his long sword got between his legs and tripped him.
Bob had abundant time to slide over the top of the conning tower, grab the general by the collar of his red coat, and pull him erect on the ridgelike spine of the deck.
With a howl of wrath, Pitou backed up against the conning tower, drew his sword, threw his left arm over his face, and proceeded savagely to carve slices out of the air.
The situation was serious, from several points of view, but Bob, for all that, could hardly repress a laugh.
Then, to crown the ignominy that was being heaped upon the general, Speake suddenly hoisted himself above the top of the tower, noted the situation, reached out calmly and passed his arms about the general’s body under the shoulders.
The next moment Bob had a glimpse of a red coat, a pair of cavalry boots, and flashing spurs being elevated and dragged down into the maw of the tower.
It was a tragic disappearance—tragic for the general—for, in this inglorious manner, he was leaving the scene of his military exploits.
As soon as Bob got below he found his friends enjoying the general as much as he had done. Clackett had taken his sword, Speake had pulled off his boots, and Dick was sitting on the captive’s breast, pinning him to the floor while he affixed cords to his wrists and ankles.
“Fer goodness’ sake,” cried Speake, “get somethin’ between his jaws! He’s chatterin’ more’n a cage o’ monkeys.”
Ysabel stepped forward with a bandage, and the general was soon silent. Dick finished by dragging him into the prison chamber and dropping him down beside Fingal.