No shots greeted their rush, though for a moment there was plenty of confusion. With some difficulty, Red Pennington was pulled off from the kicking body of his victim, who turned out to be the Gatoon’s radio operator. The man was breathless, battered, and evidently furious beneath his show of respect for gold braid.
He gave his name as A. Corba, Electrician First Class, and he told a reasonably straight story. He had been sitting half asleep in his chair, he said, listening in to the radio conversations between other ships in the Caribbean.
Suddenly he’d heard two pistol shots, and the sound of men running. He was still wondering what it was all about, when the door burst open and two hundred pounds of fighting man landed on him. Naturally he’d tried to fight back, but his attacker, who turned out to be Lieutenant Pennington, had him licked from the start.
Don Winslow heard the story through, without a change of expression.
“Why,” he asked, “did you have the deadlights screwed over the portholes. Is that customary aboard this craft?”
“Captain Riggs’ orders, sir,” replied the radio operator instantly. “That is, we were all warned to let no lights show our position to any passing boat.”
“He’s right, Commander!” spoke up the Gatoon’s captain, from the doorway. “I did give that order; and it strikes me that this man’s account holds water. Whoever shot at you must have gotten away, at least for the time being. What puzzles me is the reason for such an attack.”
“Suppose we talk that over in your quarters, sir,” Don suggested, moving toward the door. “If I’m not mistaken, we’re due for more surprises before the night is over!”
IX
RED NABS A SPY
Don Winslow’s brief account of the two attacks on Red and himself did little to clear up the mystery which hung like a dark cloud over the Gatoon’s after guard. Both assaults appeared to have the same object, however—to get back the stolen enlistment records which Don had found hidden in the lifeboat. For some reason the enemy was afraid to have those records examined.