It all happened so suddenly that by the time he
could regain his feet and dash out to the bridge, Jack was too late to prevent the disaster. Revolver in hand, Mr. Temple was a step ahead of Jack and started down the ladder, with eyes only for the two figures below, apparently not much hurt by the fall and writhing now on the deck. But Jack saw what the older man missed, and shouted a warning.
“Look out, Mr. Temple, here they come.”
Frank had heard the shouts. With a last word to the Sub Chaser, he ceased radioing and ran out on the bridge. He too saw the menace, and realized there was no time to lose.
For out of the forecastle, aroused by the shouts, seemed literally to boil a dozen Chinamen.
Throwing up his revolver, Frank fired over their heads to scare them. Jack did likewise. Then both boys leaped to the deck beside Mr. Temple, who, oblivious of all but the danger to his son, was bending over the latter as he threshed about at grips with “Black George.”
Some of the Chinamen sprang behind the derrick. Others flung themselves down behind coils of rope, several of which lay about the deck. In a twinkling the deck was cleared. Not a human mark was left to shoot at. Were they armed? That was the question the boys anxiously asked themselves. The answer came quickly, not in bullets, but in a knife that
whizzed unpleasantly close to Jack’s head, burying itself inches deep in the bulwark behind him, where it stuck quivering, and in another that struck the deck at Frank’s feet and would have caught him in the stomach had he not leaped backward in the nick of time.
“Fire a couple of shots to scare them, Frank,” panted Jack, whose chest was laboring with the excitement. “Keep them down while I help Bob. We’ve got to get under shelter.”
Obediently, Frank sent a bullet pinging into the derrick mast and another into a coil of rope. The latter shot brought a howl of fright, and a Chinaman darted from behind the rope and like a rabbit into the open forecastle door. Frank sent another bullet into the deck behind him to hasten his flight. The shots had a salutary effect, not a Chinaman so much as poked forth an arm to fire weapon or throw knife.