The rascal's jaw dropped with sheer amazement.
"I'll bash in the skull of the first chap who tries to get on deck," he replied, swinging the butt end of the weapon above his head.
"Hands up instantly, or I'll fire!" ordered Mr Buckley, sternly. The pale light glinted on the bright barrel of a sinister-looking object he held extended in his right hand. Somewhat to the Scoutmaster's surprise the fellow immediately complied, holding his arms extended to their fullest extent above his head to show that there was no deception, while the gun clattered noisily upon the deck.
In a trice Atherton and Phillips were once more upon the yacht. Without further resistance the fellow allowed them to secure him.
"Take him below," ordered Mr Buckley. "Phillips and Mayne will look after him all right. Come on, you others, if you want to be in at the capture of Mr Tassh."
Before pushing off, Mr Buckley called to Phillips to come out of the cabin.
"Here's my revolver," he said, in a voice loud enough for the prisoner to overhear. "Put it in your pocket, and don't hesitate to use it if the fellow gives trouble."
And to the surprise and amazement of the Scouts, the Scoutmaster held up for inspection—not a dangerous weapon, but one of the brass rowlocks of the canvas boat.
Phillips rejoined his companion in the task of guarding the prisoner. They heard the sound of the oars growing fainter and fainter till all was quiet.
"Look 'ere, you chaps," said the prisoner, breaking the silence, "I ain't to blame for this 'ere business. 'Swelp me, it was orl Bill's doin'!"