“Go along, then,” proposed young Dawson. “I have the wheel, and Hepton by me.”
Taking Hank Butts with him, Tom Halstead made his way below.
“Dawson was just speaking to me about our prisoner,” began Powell Seaton. “Dawson thinks he ought to be turned loose—at least while this gale lasts.”
“Yes,” nodded Captain Halstead. “I’m on my way to do it now.” 213
“Will it be safe?”
“We can’t help whether it is, or not,” Skipper Tom rejoined. “It’s a humane thing to do, and we’ll have to do it.”
Powell Seaton did not interpose any further objections. It would have been of little moment if he had, for, on the high seas, the ship’s commander is the sole judge of what is to be done.
Even below decks, going through the electric-lighted passage and cabin, Tom and Hank made their way with not a little difficulty. They paused, at last, before the starboard stateroom door, and Tom fitted the key in the lock.
Jasper, the man locked within, faced them with affrighted gaze.
“We’re going to the bottom?” he demanded, hoarsely, tremulously. His very evident terror gave the young skipper a new idea.