As he spoke, the boy reached for the switch and turned it. Greatly to his amazement, the prow lamp remained dark. In some strange manner the intruders had disconnected the wires or broken the globe. The click of the switch seemed to have reached their ears, informing them that some one was on board.
They rushed toward the cabin and came solidly against the door which was quickly shut, almost in their faces. The lock rattled sharply under the assault of a muscular hand, and the whole front of the cabin quivered and creaked under the weight of a burly body.
“Open up here!” shouted a gruff voice. “Open up, or we’ll break the door down. We knew you were here all the time!”
“This begins to look serious,” whispered Clay. “We may have to shoot.”
“Say the word,” Jule suggested, “and I’ll make the front of the cabin look like a sieve, and every bullet will count, too.”
“I’d like to aid in the capture of a couple of those fellows,” Clay said, “and I wonder if one of us couldn’t get out of the rear window, jump over on the pier, and call the police. Such ruffians ought not to be at liberty.”
“All right,” Jule whispered. “You go, and I’ll stay here and talk to them until you get out. I can keep them amused all right.”
While this short conversation had been in progress the pounding at the door had continued, and now something heavy, like a timber or a very heavy foot, came banging against the panels.
“Just a minute more,” one of the midnight prowlers shouted, “and we’ll break this door down and get you boys good!”
Clay moved to the rear of the cabin, drew in the swinging sash, and stepped lightly out on the after deck. The lights along the river front were fewer now, and the windows of the warehouses, illuminated an hour before, were dark. A roaring wind was blowing up the river, and the wash of the waves was rocking the Rambler unpleasantly.