Olive glanced in the direction of the Arab captain. Already he was showing signs of returning consciousness.
"What's that hatch under the poop, close to your cabin?" she asked.
"How on earth should I know?" retorted Mrs. Shallop. "It's no odds to me what it is."
The girl went aft, lifted the hatch, and lowered the lantern into the cavernous depths. The place was an after-hold, its for'ard end terminating in a strong transverse bulkhead, while the curved timbers and raking sternpost comprised the remaining walls.
"We'll lower the Arabs down that hatch," declared Olive firmly, when she rejoined her companion. "They'll be safe enough in there."
"No; overboard with them," persisted Mrs. Shallop.
"You'll be tried for murder on the high seas if you do," continued Olive.
The threat caused the woman's blood-thirsty schemes to evaporate.
"All right, then," she conceded grudgingly.
With very little assistance Mrs. Shallop dragged the unresisting forms of the five Arabs aft, after searching them in a very methodical fashion for concealed arms. This done, she passed a rope round each Arab in turn and lowered him into the hold; while at Olive's suggestion a stone jar filled with water was placed in their prison.