But the next turn of events completely took the wind out of their sails. Almost before they realized what was taking place, the cabin doors were slammed to and the sliding hatch drawn over. They heard the rasp of the securing hasp, and the sharp click of the key in the padlock.
"Forehatch, quick, you fellows!" exclaimed the Scoutmaster, who, seated at the after end of the cabin, could not make his way into the fo'c'sle as quickly as Findlay and Desmond. Both lads attempted simultaneously to squeeze through the sliding door between the cabin and the fo'c'sle. By the time Jock had given way to the Patrol Leader it was too late. There was a scuffling of feet on deck. The forehatch was shut with a bang, and a marline-spike inserted through the securing-bar. The Scoutmaster and two of the crew were prisoners.
Meanwhile, Hayes was still at the helm. Not until the young ruffian, whom they had befriended, had secured the forehatch did he grasp the situation. It was useless for him to leave the tiller. Without a key, it was impossible for him to open the companion-doors, while to throw back the fore-hatch was out of the question while the red-haired youth was in possession of the deck.
For several minutes the fellow remained for'ard, watching the vibrations of the hatch cover under the the united efforts of the imprisoned crew to burst it open. Satisfied that the metal bar defied their united strength, the red-haired youth came aft, ostentatiously fingering a large clasp knife.
"Look 'ere, kid!" he exclaimed. "Me an' you's goin' for a trip together, friendly-like. S'long's you gives no trouble, well an' good. Any tricks, mind you, an' it'll be the worst for yer. Got that?"
Hayes felt very hot in the throat. He was up against something this time. He racked his brains to know what to say or do. To attempt to try conclusions by force with this tough-looking fellow seemed out of the question. Hayes was small but sturdy, but he was no match for the huge-limbed, bull-necked youth who had taken charge of things.
"I don't know what you mean," he said. "We're expecting to fall in with another Sea Scout motor-boat off Dartmouth, so I don't see what you can do."
"We ain't goin' to no Dartmouth," declared the youth with a leer. "We're goin' for a run in that there dinghy. Your pals will go for a cruise on their own till someone picks 'em up. They can't come to no 'arm. What's that place over there?"
Hayes shook his head.
"Where's that map of yours I seed you with?" continued the young ruffian. "Chuck it over 'ere."