By this time Larry was out of his stateroom. With his door ajar he had heard all that had been said.
"Oh, Luke, do you think they'll try to seize the ship?" he gasped.
"Don't know what they'll do. They're a plumb crazy lot," growled the old tar. "It was a mistake to take such fellers as Semmel and Peterson and Shamhaven aboard."
"That is true, but when Devine and Larson got sick and went to the hospital at Manila I had to get somebody," answered Captain Ponsberry. He brought out several pistols. "Here, Larry, take one of these, and a cutlass, too, and you, Striker, can arm yourself likewise."
There was no time to answer, for the master of the schooner was already striding through the cabin in the direction of the companionway. An instant later came a yell from the deck, followed by heavy footsteps and then the report of a pistol.
"Drive dem to de cabin!" came in the voice of Semmel. "Drive dem along, kvick!" And then followed another yell and the sounds of half a dozen blows.
"Below there!" came in Tom Grandon's voice. "Help! help!"
"I'm coming!" called up Captain Ponsberry.
"Don't you dare to step on deck, captain!" yelled down the voice of Shamhaven. "Don't you dare to do it!" And the sailor appeared, pistol in hand, at the top of the companionway.
"Shamhaven, what does this mean?" demanded the master of the Columbia.