They were finding their mistake, for, as Nick sent the valet flying to the deck, senseless, Chick flew at Solado just when that worthy was going to help Miguel.
“You may be a big man in your own country,” observed Chick, as he twisted Don Solado’s arms behind him until he gasped with pain. “But in America we have better men than you in jail.”
He forced Solado to his back on the deck, and then slipped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists.
This had been swift work with Chick. But Nick Carter had been equally as speedy.
Miguel had been taken very much aback when he saw Jean going to the deck, and the detective had taken instant advantage of this fact to jam him against the taffrail and put on him the light, but powerful, nickel-plated handcuffs referred to in a previous chapter.
“Now, are you going to come quietly, or shall we have to wake up the crew and tell them you are a couple of rascals the police are after?” asked Nick Carter sternly.
“You shall pay for this!” hissed Solado.
“We shan’t pay as much as you will,” was the detective’s rejoinder.
“Keep quiet, Solado!” warned Miguel.
“Are you going to let them do what they want?” growled Solado.