"Down aft," said Forsythe, reflectively. "What's keeping him?"
Riley sank into the engine room, and Daniels went forward to the forecastle, reappearing before Forsythe had reached a conclusion.
"Come aft with me, Daniels," he said. "Let's find out what's doing."
Together they crept aft, and peered down the wardroom skylight. They saw Denman and Jenkins locked in furious embrace, and watched while Jenkins sank down, helpless and impotent. They saw Denman bind him, disappear from sight, and reappear with the irons, then they listened to his parting lecture to Jenkins.
"Come," said Forsythe, "down below with us, quick."
They descended the galley companion, from which a passage led aft to the petty officers' quarters, which included the armroom, and thence to the forward door of the wardroom. Here they halted, and listened to Denman's movements while he armed himself and climbed the companion stairs. They could also see through the keyhole.
"He's heeled!" cried Forsythe. "Where did he get the guns?"
"Where's the armroom? Hereabouts somewhere. Where is it?"
They hurriedly searched, and found the armroom; it contained cumbersome rifles, cutlasses, and war heads, but no pistols.
"He's removed them all. Can we break in that door?" asked Forsythe, rushing toward the bulkhead.