"You fellows keep off or I'll shoot. You can't steal my crew. I'm a bucko mate, I am. You better sheer off."
"Drop that gun, you villain!" cried Charley Burnett, high up in the schooner's rigging. At his words the mate turned.
Instantly a ringing voice from the Fortuna called out:
"Now I've got the drop on you! Let that gun go and tell the captain I want to talk to him or I'll have to shoot."
Tom was perched on top of the Fortuna's pilot house with a rifle in his hands, the muzzle pointed straight at the mate.
When the coward saw that he was indeed covered by a weapon in the hands of a determined person, his grasp on his own means of offense loosened, permitting the revolver to drop to the deck.
Seeing that he was for the time worsted he tried to cover his confusion with a grin that was more of a snarl.
"Better send for your captain and be quick about it," cried Jack impatiently. "We can't afford to burn up good gasolene chasing you. Move quickly and it will be better for you."
Ungraciously the mate dispatched one of the hands to call the captain who appeared on deck directly in a not very good humor.
When he saw the boys in their neat uniforms, however, and observed the trim appearance of the craft alongside his own vessel, his manner changed. He approached the rail and hailed: