“Oh, nothing, only it’s one of these ‘work-houses’ just exactly like we have read of. The captain is a hard nut and the mates are both of the ‘bucko’ type. There isn’t a man aboard who hasn’t got a mark from one or the other of the mates. They’re a tough crowd!”
“I’ll bet you didn’t just fall overboard, then!” shrewdly guessed Jimmie. “You missed your footing purposely! You know you did!”
“How do you know?” grinned Frank, nursing his cramped leg.
“I was watching through the binoculars,” answered Jimmie. “But go ahead and tell us something. We’re dying from curiosity!”
“Well,” began Frank, “you know I wasn’t quite satisfied to be left behind when you four lads left in chase of the fellow who had stolen the Panama plans. I wanted to go along in the Grey Eagle.”
“We know that, and we’re sorry we didn’t take you!” cried Ned.
“I went to see Mr. Bosworth about following you,” continued young Shaw. “He was opposed to that plan, but you know I usually get my own way somehow. I put together a kit and started out. I had little difficulty in securing passage on a ship loaded with miscellaneous cargo for England. The vessel was a British tramp—a ‘bucko’ ship.
“We got close to Land’s End after a rather uneventful voyage across the Atlantic. I was dreaming of getting ashore in a short time and then hiking across the channel into France to hunt you up.
“One fine morning we were all startled to hear a hail from the lookout informing the deck that a submarine was approaching. We hove to at the command of the submarine people. They commanded our captain to get his crew into the boats as quickly as possible, for in five minutes they intended torpedoing the ship. They wouldn’t take ‘No’ for an answer.”
“That was going some, I must say!” put in Jimmie.