“I don’t see how you guessed it, sir,” he whimpered; “Mink fixed every gun two nights ago. He used an explosive metal plug that’ll make the gun blow up the first time it’s fired. I’d have told you before, only there ain’t a thing you can do to fix ’em, sir. We’re gonna be sunk, with all hands, and that’s all there is to it!”
“Great jumpin’ catfish!” gurgled Red Pennington. “I never thought once about the guns being jimmied too! What can we do now, Don?”
“First put this man in the brig with his gorilla shipmate!” clipped out the young commander. “After that, we’re going to move a lot farther and faster than the Scorpion expects. You stay by the radio until I send up a regular guard, Red. And, Corba! March yourself straight through that door and forward to the brig. Lively now! My gun will be right at your back the whole way!”
Back in the radio shack, after seeing the lock turned on both Scorpion spies, Don Winslow sat down to compose a code radiogram to Navy Intelligence Headquarters at Washington. A trusted boatswain’s mate armed with rifle and bayonet stood outside to guard against interruptions.
The message, as Red Pennington translated it aloud, read: “GATOON SABOTAGED. STOP. NOW DRIFTING OFF THE COAST OF HAITI WITH GUNS AND ENGINES DISABLED. STOP. EXPECT ATTACK BY ENEMY BOMBERS AT DAYLIGHT. STOP. SEND FAST ATTACK PLANES TO OUR ASSISTANCE AT ONCE. STOP. OUR POSITION IS....”
“Here’s what I make it, Winslow!” interrupted Captain Riggs entering the room with sextant in one hand and a sheet of penciled figures in the other. “Good thing it’s a clear night, for 'shooting’ the stars. By my reckoning, we’re just ten miles off the coast, and ninety more from Port-au-Prince.”
“Thank you, Captain!” said Don, glancing at the other’s notes. “Shall I sign your name now to this radio message? If we send it at once, those Navy planes will have barely time to get here before the fun starts!”
“Sign it yourself, Commander,” replied Riggs quickly. “Your name will carry twice the weight of mine with Washington. But, blow me under if I like this idea of lying here useless till help comes! Isn’t there any trick we can work out to defend ourselves with?”
“I think there is, Captain,” answered Don Winslow, rising from his chair. “I’d like to talk it over first, though, with Michael Splendor. Suppose we join him, below, while Pennington is sending this radio I’ve just coded. Red’s an expert operator, so there won’t be any mistakes!”
Below, in the captain’s quarters. Lieutenant Darnley had just finished outlining the situation to Splendor and Mercedes Colby. The girl was taking the latest news of sabotage and sudden death with cool courage, as became the daughter of a Navy Admiral. Even the likelihood of being bombed and sunk by a Scorpion airship failed to terrify her.