And they pinned him into a chair.
Frank in the meantime had cut the current out of the live wire for fear of its setting fire to the carpet, and then he leveled the big pistol at the captain, and said, sternly:
“Hands up, sir!”
“I obey,” said Diavolo, complying quickly.
“Drop down on your knees.”
“Yes, sir; but do not fire.”
And down he went on his marrow bones, with his hands raised above his head, and the early morning sunlight streaming through the pilot-room windows upon his pale, haggard face.
The Jove was still mounting higher in the air, and the five men who had been with the captain and jumped overboard had now vanished from view in a dense thicket.
Three miles away to the southward lay the sparkling waters of the Mexican Gulf.
“Barney, bind this man,” said Frank, “and then we may learn where he has his ships and stronghold, and the little boy prisoner.”