Though not quite alone, either, for Tom had succeeded in unlimbering his rifle, and both strangers now found themselves staring down into the muzzle.
"Don't stir, please!" mocked Tom Halstead, coolly.
"How in the world did he get on board?" faltered Rollings, hoarsely, his face ashen with terror.
The uniformed man with him saw the grappling hook resting over the stern rail, and did not need to ask.
At this instant Tom Halstead felt himself being pushed from behind, and took a step forward. Then Ted Dyer bounded onto deck beside him, bringing another rifle into play.
"They're boarding us!" gasped Rollings, in the voice of a man who felt himself dying from fright.
The uniformed man with him did not move; neither did he show any signs of fear, though he was facing the business ends of two rifles.
Joe Dawson was on deck, now. Joe turned long enough to toss down a light line. It came up again, carrying the hooks of a boarding-ladder. Joe dropped this into place, then, with a quiet grin, turned to inspect the scene on deck.
Suddenly the man in uniform turned and ran, defying possible shots.
"Turn out the whole crew!" he bawled. "A posse is coming on board. Stand by to fight!"