“Give me that gun,” the fisherman demanded of Martin, who picked up the weapon and handed it over.
Hegan made a movement in the direction of the dinghy, whereupon Bob Sennet strode forward, took him by the collar, and flung him roughly into the bottom of the cockpit.
“So these two boys were nearly killing the pair of you, were they!” the burly fisherman said. “I’ve seen one of ’em at the wheel for the last five minutes. The other has a boat-hook in his hand, and a bullet in his leg, if I’m not mistaken. That yarn don’t go with me, and it won’t go with the police. Have they another gun, Jack?” he demanded suddenly.
“They had, but Hegan threw it at me when it was empty, and it must have gone overboard.”
“What’s their game?”
“I don’t quite know, Captain Sennet,” replied Jack, “but I’d be very much obliged if you’d help us back to Greenport.”
“You bet I will! Now, then, you two,” he went on addressing Hegan and Martin, “get onto the schooner. Nearly killing the pair of you, were they? A fine yarn! Hey! What in thunder!” Captain Sennet’s head went forward and his eyes widened in astonishment as he saw the broken, bullet-torn doors of the companion way. “Has somebody gone crazy!” he added.
Jack was by now in a state of semi-collapse, and the fisherman, picking him up, laid him gently on the deck of the sloop.
“They turned us adrift in the dory,” Rodney explained, “but there wasn’t any wind, so we were able to paddle alongside again and Jack slipped aboard and fastened them up in the cabin.”
“Well, I dunno,” said Captain Sennet, “but by rights you two ought both to be dead now, ’cording to what’s been going on. Joe,” he called out, raising his voice and addressing the mate on board the schooner, “tie those two beauties up good and tight, or they might get away from you yet. Now pass a line aboard here, and beat it back to the harbor.”