The Lieutenant jogged Webster in the ribs.
“Is he not droll—this Captain of yours?”
“Very droll,” remarked Webster, with a meaning look at the Quartermaster, who stood near.
Hume swung into the boat with two men, and gave the order to push off.
Webster leaned over the side, ran his eyes over the men on deck who were drinking with the three soldiers, then spoke a word to the Quartermaster, who immediately joined the group, placing himself as he did so between the soldiers and their rifles, which rested against the side.
Webster strolled to the chart house, took another look at the group on guard, then flung himself on the Lieutenant, pinning that astonished individual by the throat. There was a scuffle forward, a smothered cry or so, and in a minute the four Portuguese were bound and gagged.
“Lower the long boat, Mr Webster,” said the Captain in low tones.
This was done by the now thoroughly alert and expectant crew in silence.
“Man the boat, take a tow-line, and make for the coal barges.”
Four men dropped into the boat, a tow-line was made fast.