Bill and Josh were so astonished that they did not think of flight or resistance until it was too late. The young tars arose from their concealments on all sides of them, and they suddenly found themselves surrounded by a wall of gleaming bayonets, every one of which was held so close to them that the least forward or backward movement on their part would have brought them in contact with the cold steel.
"Well, look here! I swan to man!" said Jed, shrinking away from the bayonets in front of him, only to receive a slight prick from three or four behind.
"I say, fellows," stammered Bill, "you've made a mistake."
"Is that you, Richardson?" asked Johnny.
"Harding!" exclaimed the midshipman, excitedly, "and a prisoner, too. We've got the burglars. Put your hands above your heads," he added, sternly, addressing himself to Josh and Bill; "quick, or you'll feel the points of those bayonets."
"Hold on, Dave," cried Johnny, when he saw that the bayonets were drawn back for a thrust. "These men are not the robbers."
"They are not? How does it come, then, that you are a prisoner?" demanded the young officer.
"Untie my hands, somebody, and I'll tell you all about it."
"See here, fellows," exclaimed Jed, who seemed greatly annoyed by the close proximity of the muskets, "just turn them stickers the other way, will you?"
None of the young tars, however, paid the least attention to his words, and, indeed, he might as well have spoken to the wind; but Richardson heard the appeal, and, turning to Johnny, inquired: