“Oh, Jack made me think of an automatic which I carried in my bag. But you see the bag’s open. These fellows foresaw the possibility of their containing weapons and probably have gone through them all.”
“Let’s have a look, anyhow,” said Bob, starting to rummage. He was unsuccessful. The revolver had been taken from the receptacle.
“Oh, well,” said Jack, “we’ll have to keep our
eyes open and our wits about us, that’s all. In a shipload of armed men, it would be strange if we couldn’t come by a weapon somehow.”
“Or, maybe, make a friend who will come over to our side,” said Bob suddenly. The big fellow was slower in his mental processes than his two chums, but when he spoke it usually was to the point.
“That’s right, Bob,” said his father, brightening, “of course, of course. Why hadn’t I considered that possibility before? A cruel man like Folwell must make some enemies among his men, especially if they have finer instincts and are not content merely to get their pay and carouse.”
“I was thinking of Matt Murphy,” said Bob.
“Speak of the devil,” said Frank, but so low his words were not heard.
For at that moment, Murphy put his head in through the door.
“We’re off,” he said. And it was true. The engines began to clank, the screw to churn. The trawler quivered and headed out into the channel. “In ten, fifteen minutes, we’ll be passin’ through the Golden Gate,” said Matt Murphy. “Them portholes ain’t big enough to jump out, so I ain’t worried. But put your eye to ’em an’ ye’ll see.”