“Captain Gomez!” gasped out the commander of the Calvo, for such was the rank of the other. “What does this mean, sir?”
“Are you a prisoner of these Americans?” gasped out another officer.
“No, gentlemen, but you are my prisoners,” replied the Costavezan captain calmly. “I advise you to submit to the fortunes of war with a good grace.”
“Trapped!” burst out the other officer. He gazed in front of him despairingly.
He was a brave man in his way. So were his officers. But the bravest men are not the most reckless, and he saw, by the grim look in his captor’s eyes, that a dash for the stairway between themselves and the deck would have been, under the circumstances, suicidal.
Suddenly a loud cheer disturbed the tense silence. It came from above.
“Hurray!”
“What was that?” gasped the insurgent captain.
“I rather think it was your boat going to the bottom. We thought it best to scuttle her,” rejoined Captain Gomez, with the same deadly calm. “You gentlemen will, therefore, have to be our guests for a time. I trust you will make yourselves at home. One thing, before we leave you to your own devices, however, I must request your weapons.”