“What kind of a launch is that, anyhow?” he asked in wondering tones.
“It’s a kind of a special duty launch,” parried Ned, not wishing to reveal the true nature of their craft.
“Say, she’s a wonder. Up to weather one minute, and the next sneaking up to leeward of a fellow. What chance had we, anyhow. But say, if I’d ever fired at you fellows, there’d have been one less of you.”
“I don’t doubt it,” answered Ned; “but, you see, things came out otherwise.”
In the meantime, Midshipman Stark had found that there was a hasp and padlock on the outside of the cabin companionway. He had quickly snapped the padlock into its fastenings, securing the men who had retreated below. Naturally, a perfect chorus of execrations greeted him as he did this. But equally naturally, they had no effect whatever on the captors of the schooner, who were now more than ever convinced that the men on board her had been up to some nefarious doings.
“Now then, boys,” said the naval officer, when all was secured, and the two tied captives lay in the scuppers, “just lower those sails and heave to a minute, and we’ll see what sort of a craft this is.”
His orders were quickly carried out, and with more alacrity, as everyone was anxious to find out the reason for the strange behavior of the crew of the sailing vessel. If they were honest men their conduct had been unaccountable.
Amidships of the schooner, what was evidently her hatch, was covered with a tarpaulin instead of the customary wooden battens.
“Let’s have that off, boys, and see what’s under there,” ordered the officer. From his station in the conning-tower, Mr. Lockyer was peering over the schooner’s bulwarks eagerly. He echoed the cry of surprise given by the others as the cover was ripped off with no gentle hands, but very expeditiously.
“Well, what on earth do you make of that?” gasped the lieutenant, as the contents of the hold lay revealed.