“I’m going to run in alongside and board her,” whispered the lieutenant, taking advantage of the excitement on board the sailing vessel. “Do you hear, on deck there?”
“Aye, sir,” responded Ned; “we’re all ready.”
“Then look out. Stand by to jump on board when I give the word. Don’t stand for any nonsense. I’ve an idea those fellows have been up to some mischief. At any rate, a schooner that carries no lights and whose crew open fire on anyone who inquires her business, has only herself to blame if she is held up.”
“I’ll take the wheel,” volunteered Mr. Lockyer, as they crept closer and closer to the schooner. They were now on the lee side of the craft, and the slight leeway she was making was bringing her down upon them. Her crew, apparently, were all busy looking off to the weather quarter, trying to make out some sign of the launch that had so mysteriously vanished.
“Strictly speaking, I suppose,” said the naval officer, as he and Midshipman Stark joined the others on deck, “strictly speaking, I guess we’ve not much right to board that fellow, but—here goes!”
As he spoke the steel side of the diving vessel grazed the side of the schooner for an instant. Before the others were aware of what he intended to do, Lieutenant Parry had caught at the sailing vessel’s shrouds and swung himself aboard.
At the same instant, by a stroke of ill luck, the wind hauled round, and the awkward schooner yawed off till quite a space separated the submarine from her. Now, it is a curious thing that up to that moment not one of the party had realized that there was not a weapon on board the Lockyer.
“Not even a bean-shooter,” wailed Herc.
“There’s a butcher knife in the galley,” chortled Ned.
In the excitement, they had forgotten this utterly, and now Lieutenant Parry stood alone on the schooner’s deck, unarmed and facing desperate men. True, they could get alongside again in a moment, but if the crew of the schooner was numerous and well armed, it was likely that they might have a tough time in boarding her.