"How do you propose to go about it?"
The question came from a third speaker. For the sake of clearness, it may be said here that he was Captain Jeb Rangler, the skipper of the tug, and a man whose character was of the worst.
"Simple enough," rejoined Dampier easily. "His uncle is rich. He was so before they stole the treasure of the sunken galleon away from us."
"That's pretty cool cheek," thought Tom to himself, as he lay listening; "as if the rascals didn't try all sorts of roguery to obtain it from the rightful discoverers."
"Ah; I see what you mean," came in Walstein's rumbling, hoarse tones, "you think we can get a ransom for him?"
"You've caught the idea. I should say that old Chisholm Dacre would give a good bit of money to have his nephew back safe and sound. Especially if he knew into whose hands he had fallen."
There was a laugh, in which all three joined, at this. Tom felt a shudder run through him.
"This is a nice nest of ruffians," he thought to himself. But the voices went on, and he eagerly resumed his listening.
"You've got the head after all, Dampier," rumbled Captain Walstein's heavy bass voice. "I wish we could have got the others, too."
"We might have, only it was too risky to take a chance on attacking their craft."