"Them blastered scoundrels!" raged Jarrow, as he rubbed his hands down over his shirt to squeeze out the water. "I lost my hat."
"Better come aboard, captain," said Trask. "Have you a gun?"
"I wish I had," declared Jarrow, wrathfully. "I'd a-let daylight through that fool of a Peth! See the game they run on me ashore?"
"We did," said Locke. "You were lucky to get away."
"By the Mighty Nelson!" declared Jarrow, as he clambered over the side and hurled a shower of water around him like a halo as he landed on the bone-white deck. "I never did see such a passel o' fools! Plumb bugs on gold! They think 'cause there ain't any we're to put a young fortune in their hands! I'll have the coast guard on 'em, that's what, and land every man of 'em in Bilibid for life!"
"Then you're for getting out?" asked Trask.
"You bet I am! Think I want to hang around and palaver with a set of pirates that'd stick a gun in my face and tell me where I git off? Not much! What's that Doc pulled on you?"
"A gun," said Trask. "And my own. He had it all the time."
"Well, I'll be jiggered!" declared Jarrow, staring at the weapon which Trask still held in his hand. "He's a nice one!"
"A smooth article," said Trask. "He fooled me, all right. If it hadn't been for Tom——" He looked around, but Tom had disappeared into the galley.