"Why, here am I, Herc Taylor, ordinary seaman, of Lambs' Corners, New York, butting commanders about as if they were ninepins and I was a bowling ball, that's all!" groaned Herc. "And that looks to me like a first-class way to get in bad."
"Herc, you are incorrigible," groaned Ned; "and I agree with you. If this adventure of yours doesn't turn out badly for both of us, I shall be much surprised."
[CHAPTER V.]
TWO LADS WITH THE "RIGHT RING."
It seemed to Herc that he had been asleep but a short time when he awakened with a start and an uneasy feeling that he could not account for.
Gradually, however, as the semi-stupor that followed the opening of his eyes wore off and he became sensible of his surroundings, he was aware that something unusual seemed to be occurring on the ship. Shouts and the trampling of running feet were borne in to him, and his first sleepy impression was that it was morning.
Suddenly, however, he became aware that the shouts formed a certain definite cry.
What was it?