“I’m dizzy, too!” put in Dick.
“And I,” murmured Glennie, setting aside his plate and empty cup. “I—I believe I’ll lie down.”
He got up from the stool on which he was sitting, and floundered to the tap of the locker. Pushing a hand around to his hip pocket, he drew out a revolver that interfered with his comfort, dropped it on the floor, and fell back limply.
Dick tried to get to his feet, but his limbs gave out, and he fell sprawling upon Carl. At the same moment Carl straightened out with a gasp, and Speake let go of the wheel and pitched forward to his knees. There he swayed unsteadily for an instant, trying to speak, but the effort was beyond him, and he slowly crumpled downward.
A horrible sensation of helplessness was growing upon Bob, and with it there dawned on his mind a hazy suspicion of villainous work. He struggled upright and staggered to the wheel.
“Gaines!” he called huskily through the motor-room tube.
No answer was returned. Glennie floundered up on one knee.
“What—in the fiend’s—name—is the matter?” he gasped chokingly.
“Clackett!” cried Bob, through the tank-room tube.
Still there was no answer. At just that moment, when Bob was positively sure that all on the ship were caught in the awful spell, Ah Sin shambled through the door.