“Looks as if we’ve tackled a tougher proposition than we thought, sir,” said Lieutenant Parry, addressing Captain McGill, whose head now projected above the open top of the conning-tower.
“For heaven’s sake, gentlemen, whoever you are, lay alongside,” appealed the elderly man, whom, it could now be seen by all who knew him, was, indeed, Mr. Pangloss. The apostle of peace seemed transfigured, however. His eyes blazed, and his white hair stood out like a mane. In his hand he held a revolver. It was doubtless this weapon that had so far held the mutineers back.
“Blow the rascals to the sky!” he shouted angrily, shaking his fist at them menacingly.
As for the girl, she stood erect and apparently fearless. Channing Lockyer’s eyes dwelt admiringly on her brave, defiant form. But the old man’s words proved a reminder to the mutineers that they were neglecting their mission of loot and plunder. With a yell, they charged aft as he shouted his defiance.
CHAPTER XXV.
MR. LOCKYER CAPTURES A PRIZE.
But a sharp voice rang out from the deck of the submarine.
“Stop where you are!”
“Well, what is it now, Mister Bluff?” shouted the bloated-faced man.