He swung down the steps from the bridge to the main deck with the agility of an ape. The captain, who also knew how matters stood, turned to the engineer and the mate.
“You fellows better get your guns,” he said; “there’s trouble coming now.”
Suddenly the slender, graceful form of Jarrold’s niece appeared on the bridge.
“Oh, what is it? What is the matter?” she implored.
“It’s nothing, Miss Jarrold,” began the captain, in a tone intended to pacify the half-hysterical girl. “You see——”
The sharp crack of a pistol shot cut him short. Following the shot, came a riot of savage cries and shouts.
The captain wasted no more words but, followed by his officers, all armed with revolvers, ran forward.
“That madman has spilled the fat now,” he cried, as they rushed toward the forecastle. The sounds proceeding from it resembled the uproar from a den of wild beasts.
[CHAPTER XXXVI—ADRIFT]
Cummings, like the rank coward that he was, had run for his cabin just behind the pilot house when the inferno broke loose. He was cowering in it with ashen cheeks when Miss Jarrold appeared in the doorway.