But as chance would have it, it was Ned who was destined to be surprised first.
Hardly had he stepped on deck, when from forward a squat shape came bounding across the moonlit decks. Simultaneously a low, angry growl greeted the Dreadnought Boy's ears.
"Great guns! The skipper's dog! I'd clean forgotten him," exclaimed Ned in dismay.
The dog hesitated a minute, sniffed and then, with an angry snarl, came bounding on again.
"If I can't silence him, he'll have them all awake in a minute, and then I'll have a fine hornet's nest about my ears," muttered Ned.
Ur-r-r-r-r-r-r-r! The dog sprang straight for Ned's throat. Luckily, the creature was not one of the barking kind. He plainly preferred action to noise.
Ned saw him coming. Saw the white flash of his teeth in the moonlight. Swift as thought he stooped and picked up a barrel stave which happened to be lying near his feet.
As the dog was in mid-spring, Ned let fly with his improvised weapon. Crack! It struck the dog right across the nose and sent him hurtling back in a coiled-up ball.
"Jove! I hated to do that, old fellow," cried Ned in a low tone; "but it had to be, and you'll soon get over it."