All three withdrew their gaze from the deck and glanced around.
“He’s got the Sub Chaser,” whispered Bob, gleefully. “Say, this is too easy. Why, we’ll have help here before the Chinese ever realize what has happened. Hear that. Old Frank’s giving the Sub Chaser our bearings right now, just as Murphy gave them to him.”
A slight scratching sound caused Jack to face about in alarm. The door from the bridge stood slightly ajar, as they had left it on entrance. He listened. Someone was creeping up the ladder. Now he was on the bridge, creeping on hands and knees toward the door. Jack nudged Bob who was next to him, and laid a hand on his lips. They as well as Mr. Temple who was farthest away were all crouched so low to avoid being seen from the deck that they themselves could not look out.
In the silence Frank’s voice rang clearly:
“Prisoners, I tell you. Yes, that’s our position. What’s that? I can’t hear you. Hurry. This is ticklish. We’ve got their radio room, yes. They haven’t discovered us yet. But when they do, they’ll cut off
our juice. We’ll hold out, all right. But come your fastest.”
The creeping sound outside had ceased. Jack could bear the anxiety no longer. He raised his head cautiously. Nobody in sight as the deck came into view. The door of the forecastle still was closed. He rose a trifle higher to bring the bridge into view. Then he yelled as the door was dashed inward against him, knocking him to the floor.
“Black George,” tall, powerful, his head bandaged, his eyes aflame with maniacal rage, stood swaying in the little doorway, crouched to spring.
Bob sprang forward. He had given his revolver, the one taken from “Black George’s” room, to Frank. He had retained the long knife, but the unaccustomed weapon lay on the floor where he had placed it when he knelt, forgotten. He was unarmed. Mr. Temple shouted in alarm, and raised his revolver to fire. Then he dropped it again. He would hit his son.
Bob’s right fist shot out, but “Black George” dodged and the blow slid harmlessly over his shoulder. With a snarl, “Black George” flung his arms about Bob’s waist. They reeled out to the bridge, tight-locked together, swayed a moment on the edge, and then fell with a crash to the deck at the foot of the ladder.