Pierre’s actions, upon hearing these words, not a little surprised Tomlinson. He took just one glance at the young sailors, and then springing to the fore-hatch, lowered himself quickly into the galley. There he stopped long enough to give a few brief and hurried orders to the deserters, one of whom also jumped down into the galley, while the others went on with the work of hoisting the sails. A few minutes later, Eugene and Bab crossed the deck of the brig that lay between the yacht and the wharf, and appeared at the rail.
“What’s going on here?” demanded the former, angrily. “It seems to me, Tomlinson, that you are taking a good many liberties on so short an acquaintance. I was in hopes I had seen the last of you. Drop those halliards.”
“Of course I will, if you say so, because you are one of the owners of the yacht,” replied the sailor. “But we have orders from the lieutenant to get under way at once.”
“From Chase?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where is he?” asked Bab.
“He’s below, and Wilson has gone out to look for you.”
“Has Walter returned yet?”
“Yes. He is in the cabin now.”
“Why is he getting under way, and where is he starting for?” inquired Eugene, as he and Bab swung themselves over the brig’s rail and dropped upon the deck of their vessel.