“What’s going on here?” cried Pat.
“I don’t know,” gasped Tim, “but someone turned off the light over the hatch and came down here. I just tackled him and there’s another fellow at the hatch about ready to come down.”
The man Tim had tackled recovered suddenly from the surprise attack and struck out with a vigor that caught the flying reporter. A powerful foot struck Tim on the chest and sent him flying across the control room to land on the other side curled against a maze of pipes and valve wheels.
“Have you got him?” cried Pat.
“Not now,” Tim replied. “He kicked me almost through the side of this tin fish. You try and get him.”
“I’ll get him all right,” vowed Pat. “You keep the boy at the hatch from joining him and making this too much of a party.”
Flame lighted the interior of the control room and their eardrums were almost shattered by the deafening roar of a gun discharged at close range. The man Tim had tackled was shooting at the sound of their voices.
“Never mind trying to get this fellow,” called Pat, now safely protected by the bulkhead into the engine room. “We’ll pick him off when he tries to return to the deck.”
The answer to Pat’s words were written in smoke and flame as the unknown intruder fired again.
Tim, watching the outline of the hatch against the sky, saw a head appear. He raised his gun and fired in the general direction of the hatch, more to scare the second man than to actually harm him. On the echo of the crash of his gun came a scream of pain and the head promptly disappeared.