He had had a fairly strenuous time of late. He did not spare his crew, nor did he spare himself, but he forgot the important fact that he could go for long periods without rest and sleep, whereas most of the hands could not.
In less than a minute he was sound asleep.
A quarter of an hour later, Pengelly, accompanied by a couple of men, tiptoed to the door. He listened. Cain was breathing heavily in a sound slumber. The second in command bent down and peered through the keyhole. The electric light was burning. He could see nothing of the captain, since his range of vision was limited by the smallness of the keyhole. Above the door was a lowered ventilator. Cautiously, Pengelly stopped the opening with a damp cloth. Then he signed to one of the men.
The fellow applied a rubber tube to the keyhole. At the other end of the tube was a bag containing chloroform. For several minutes the suffocating fumes were being pumped into the cabin.
"'Nough, if you don't want to snuff him out," declared the man.
"Sure he's insensible?" asked Pengelly anxiously.
"Like a noo-born babby," replied the fellow confidently.
"Good enough," was the response. "Down with the door. Got lashings ready?"
The two seamen put their shoulders to the steel panel. It gave slightly, but the lock held in spite of reiterated efforts.
"Get a sledge-hammer," ordered Pengelly impatiently, as he toyed with a belaying-pin. A few blows with the heavy hammer shattered the lock. Pengelly, followed by more of the crew, rushed in. Cain, with a dazed look on his face, and making a gurgling sound as he strove for breath, was sitting up in his bunk with an automatic in his hand.