“I’m ver-ver-very nervous,” he went on, “and at any mum-mum-moment I’m likely to give this lever a twist.”
“I’ll get even with you for this, my hearty,” muttered the nonplussed Captain Lawless, but nevertheless he scrambled back after his crew as Ding-dong gave his crisp command.
“Now, then,” cried the boy in a determined tone, “you let my friends out of that cabin, or I’ll have to indulge in some target practice with your schooner as the bull’s-eye.”
“Not much you won’t!” roared out Durkee, the mate.
As he spoke, the fellow whipped out a pistol and aimed it at Ding-dong.
The lad depressed the breech of the gun and gave the lever a twist. Instantly a sputter of bullets flew forth. They lodged in the schooner’s spars and rigging, sending a shower of splinters all about.
At the same instant, the roar of the blunderbuss sounded from the cabin, and a fat sailor, who had been sitting on the door, bounded into the air. He was not hurt, but imagined that a mine had exploded beneath him.
As the adventurers rushed out of the cabin, they came face to face with a scene in which Ding-dong Bell was the dominating factor. The moral effect of the machine gun’s discharge had been tremendous. Palefaced and demoralized, Captain Lawless and his crew fled forward, where they huddled in a mass like so many frightened sheep.
“Say, professor!” hailed Lawless, “call that young gad-fly off. He’s done a hundred dollars’ worth of harm to my ship already. Call him off, do you hear?”
“It would serve you right if your schooner was sunk,” retorted the professor. “What did you mean by imprisoning us in that cabin?”