“We’ve got to get out of this somehow.”
It was fifteen minutes later, after an interval devoted to a discussion of their situation, that the professor spoke.
“Agreed,” struck in Mr. Tubbs, “but how in the name of the immortal Abe Lincoln are we going to do it?”
“I’ve got an idea,” said Nat suddenly. “See that old lounge in the corner there?”
They nodded and waited for his next words.
“It’s old and rickety, but it’s made of stout timbers. What’s the matter with using that for a battering ram?”
“Excellent!” exclaimed the professor, catching his meaning. “But what are we going to do if we get out of here?”
“That’s a logical inquiry,” said Mr. Tubbs. “We haven’t got any weapons, and those rascals may be well armed. I know that the captain and the mate always carry revolvers. I’m not sure about the others, though.”
“Humph!” murmured Nat. “I hadn’t thought of that. Tell you what we can do, though. Let’s make a search of the cabin. Maybe we can find some pistols or other weapons in one of them.”
“A good idea,” agreed the professor; “we’ll start by examining the captain’s boudoir.”