Jerry, with unexpected strength, put a hand on each of their chests and flung them back with seeming ease. When they recovered, his blue eyes were blazing and a revolver showed in his hand.
"Now, lads," he said in his soft, penetrating voice, "I like you, I do, and I'm takin' care o' you. You heard what old Borden said, eh? 'Let 'em go down to the wreck,' he said, lads, but not me. No, old Jerry likes you, an' you ain't a-goin' to be hurt."
"Why—why, blame it all, what do you mean?" gasped Mart.
"He's puttin' up a joke on us, Mart," grinned Bob. Jerry chuckled.
"Joke, eh? Look ye here, lads. Up back at the village yonder, the cap'n and Joe Swanson is took care of in a hut. They're safe enough, but they're took care of. That's why I went ashore first, to see my friends. This here yacht belongs to me, lads, until we get up the treasure out o' the wreck. Then me and the rest, we'll be off all shipshape and Bristol fashion, we will, and no one won't be hurt. Understand that, lads?"
Mart stared. But there was no denying the earnestness of the old man. Then over both boys flashed the whole thing—the three old men plotting at Waikiki, the different snatches of talk they had heard, everything that pointed to the same end. Jerry and his comrades had seized the Seamew.
"You mean you're a gang of pirates?" asked Bob, paralyzed with astonishment.
"That's it, lads," chuckled Jerry calmly. "You ain't to be hurt so long's you keep quiet, lads. Pirates it is—the fish down below and us up here above, lads. But when we've got the treasure out o' the wreck, we'll set the cap'n free and leave you wi' the ship. Fish tell no tales, lads—fish tell no tales!"
And with that Jerry turned and ascended the companion, revolver in hand.