There came a rush of feet on deck. Before the three in the salon could reach for revolvers, men with leveled rifles appeared at every porthole.
“Stick ’em up and keep ’em there!” cracked a voice from the open doorway, and a man in the smart white uniform of a ship’s officer strode into the room.
Chapter III
MAN OVERBOARD
The man who entered so abruptly was a tall, heavy-set individual in the early thirties. Blond as only the Scandinavians or North Germans are blond, his very next words betrayed Teutonic origin.
“So!” he sneered as the three kept their hands level with their ears. “A boy and two half-grown men. Master Evans, and a pair of aviators, eh? The one, we miss the first time. The others descend on us like manna out of heaven,—I don’t think! Three more mouths to feed and no money in it for anyone. Donnerwetter, noch ein Mahl!”
“Nichts kom heraus, mahogany bedstead,” piped Charlie. The added danger seemed to revive his waning spirits with a vengeance. “The same to you and many of ’em, Dutchy. I know some more, too,” he went on proudly. “Schweitzerkäse, frankfurters and getthe-Houtofhere! That last is the longest word in the Heinie dictionary!”
“What’s the shortest?” inquired Bill, who was enjoying this byplay.
“Oh, I don’t know—but the one they say the quickest is ‘camerad.’”
“Halts ’maul! Shut up, I mean!” thundered the blond stranger. The whites around the pupils of his light blue eyes became bloodshot with anger. “I am master here,” he roared. “Silence! I will have it!”
Two sailors appeared in the doorway behind him. He wheeled about. “Adolph, you will keep the prisoners covered. Hans, take their weapons from them. And now,” he continued, when the three lowered their hands after they had been searched, “you will tell me what names you go by.”