The gang-plank had been drawn in, but Lieutenant Hal, measuring the distance with the eye of an athlete, leaped on to the deck.
Two of Hal's soldiers followed him aboard, the other two remaining on the pier.
"What's your name, sir?"
"Boggs," growled the master, a thick-set, powerful-looking, red-faced man of perhaps fifty. "What's yours?"
"I am Lieutenant Overton, of the United States Army," answered Hal.
Guarez and three other Mexicans ran out from the cabin and tried to leap ashore.
"Don't let these Mexicans get away if you have to shoot them down," Hal ordered quickly. "They're United States prisoners."
"This is a high-handed proceeding, Lieutenant," stormed Captain Boggs.
"Isn't it?" jeered Hal. Then, to the soldiers on the pier:
"Drive those two deckhands aboard, and stand ready to cast off, my men, when I give the order."