Nick Carter ducked almost before the demand for his surrender was out of the other man’s mouth.
When he came up again—which he did like lightning—the top of his head struck the sailor’s chin and knocked him backward, stunned and gasping.
At the same instant the detective wrenched the revolver from his hand and faced another man who was standing in the doorway.
This second man had no gun. His weapon was an iron belaying pin, and if he could have swung it, he might have done serious damage.
As it was, he retreated in disorder as he saw the steady eye of Carter running along the blue steel barrel of the big forty-four, and, as a natural consequence, he upset all those behind him.
“Vinton! Drago!� shouted Nick.
There was a quick response to his call. The two came running along the corridor, and Vinton fired off his automatic pistol on general principles.
He did not hit anybody, but the report was tremendous in those confined quarters. It scared every sailor among them.
Nick Carter could not help laughing heartily as he and his companions herded the men along the deck and into the forecastle again.
Taking care the door was thoroughly secured this time, Nick stationed Lord Vinton, with the pistol, outside, giving him orders to shoot down the first man who should appear.