Stepping to the wheel-house door he pulled it open. Inside was evidence of the havoc that the machine gun fire had worked there. Everything had been riddled, including the helmsman, who lay dead on the floor.
At this moment, however, Dave had no time to do more than glance at the dead man. Reaching for the whistle he blew a long blast, and caused the fire bell to be rung, the signal to stand by to abandon ship.
That brought seamen and stokers trooping to the deck, until more than thirty had so appeared.
"Does any man among you understand English?" Darrin called down as he leaned over the rail in front of the wheel-house.
"I do," came from one of the crew.
"Then inform your mates that this craft has been seized as lawful prize of the United States Navy. Where is your boatswain?"
"That's me," said the same speaker, gruffly.
"Very good. Deliver my message to the crew. Then make sure that all hands are on deck. If you deceive me you will be held sternly to account for trickery."
"All here," reported the boatswain, after a quick count, "except the cook and his helpers."
"Send for them, and tell them to report here at once."