The words sent a thrill through Jack.
“That means a fight,” he said calmly, although his heart beat fast.
“That’s what it does, lad,” returned the doughty captain, “but there are three revolvers below, and we’ve got the law on our side—don’t forget that.”
“No, and I don’t forget that they are five to our three,” added the boy, with a grim smile.
As they crept closer, Tom was apprised of the turn events were taking. He was provided with a revolver, and Captain Andrews armed Jack and himself likewise.
“I don’t approve of firearms; fists is my way of fighting,” he said. “But we are going up against a gang of sea sharks that are desperate, and we may have to fall back on the guns.” Silence fell on the party as they slowly but surely crept up on the bobbing, dancing light ahead. As they came within hailing distance Captain Andrews boomed out a hail:
“Tarpon, ahoy!”
But no answer was vouchsafed.
“Looks as if they are going to cut up rough,” opined the captain; “well, there’s nothing for us to do but heave alongside and board them. You’re not scared, Jack?”
“Not a bit. I’m too hot to get at the rascals who have caused us so much trouble to feel scared of them.”