“Get that hatch down in a hurry!” sounded 72 Anson Dalton’s hoarse voice, imperiously. “If you don’t, we’ll all be tight in a worse trap than this.”
Blows with fists and feet resounded once more. Then, after an instant’s pause, came the slower, harder thump-thump which told that one of the strongest of those caught below was using his shoulder, instead. Soon two cracks seamed the surface of the hatch door.
“Good! Go at it hard!” encouraged the voice of Dalton. “Batter it down. It will be worth money—and freedom—to you and to us all!”
“Yes, just clear a passage, and see what happens!” roared back Tom Halstead, as soon as he could make his own voice heard distinctly.
“Don’t mind the talk of those boys!” warned Dalton, angrily, as there came a pause in the shoulder assaults against the hatch.
With a grin Hank raised his iron hitching weight above his head, hurling it down to the deck with crashing force. Then, still grinning, he stooped to pick it up again.
That noisy thump on the deck timbers caused a brief ensuing silence down in the cabin. It was plain that Dalton and his fellows were wondering just how dangerous their reception would be in case they succeeded in breaking out. 73
The cabin was lighted, in day time, by side ports and a barred transom overhead. The ports were too small to permit of a man forcing his way through. Even though they broke the glass overhead, the prisoners in the cabin would still have iron bars to overcome. Tom Halstead, with his club, could hinder any work at that point.
In the meantime, the “Restless,” once out of the cove, was bounding over the waves like a thing of life. Though the water had been hard to swim through, it did not present a rough sea for a fifty-five foot power boat.
In less than three minutes Engineer Joe Dawson was sounding his auto whistle like mad as he neared the dock at Lonely Island.