“Well, then,” he said presently, “we’ll have to capture the ship in some way. That’s all. And, perhaps, we can persuade Murphy to give us weapons and help us overawe the Chinese crew.”
“Perhaps we can,” said Mr. Temple. “Meantime, let us all turn in and get some sleep. Tomorrow will be the day on which we must make whatever attempt we decide on. And we’ll need all our strength and alertness then. Frank, do you and Jack be sure to
lock your cabin door again as you did last night, and we will do likewise. Let us each take a heavy chair into our rooms, too. In case of a night attack, we can at least pull the chair apart for clubs. And now, good night.”
Mr. Temple thereupon turned in. For some moments, more, however, the boys chatted and tried to read, but at last they, too, retired. As far as they could tell, the storm continued to rage undiminished.
“I wonder what tomorrow will bring forth, Jack,” said Frank, just before going to sleep.
“I wonder,” said Jack. “Good night.”
[CHAPTER XIII—HOPE IS “IN THE AIR”]
Jack waked early the next morning and lay in his berth wondering drowsily for several moments as to what caused his feeling that there was something unusual in the situation. Then he jumped alertly to his feet and ran to the porthole.
The trawler was motionless. When he retired it had been tossed about by the storm. Now its engines were stilled, its screw was not turning, and except for a slight rolling motion it lay as calm as in a harbor. Could it be they had reached the smugglers’ cove during the night? It was this alarming thought which sent Jack to the porthole.
But a look at the outer world convinced him to the contrary. There was no land in sight. And as he was on the landward side, he considered this a pretty good indication that they were not in port anywhere. Of course, the trawler might have swung about, so that her starboard side lay toward the land. He