“Never mind. Didn’t you see the skipper wouldn’t show it to the others?”
“I can keep a secret as well as you—and I’ll tell Captain Perkins unless you tell me,” asserted Ted.
“Come close then.” And as his brother obeyed, Phil whispered in his ear, “It said: ‘Watch your boilers closely. Relieve oiler Swanson from duty upon receipt of this message and place in irons. Put him ashore at Toledo. Will have man there to take his place. Atwood.’”
“Crickey! Then it’s Swanson who tampered with—”
“Keep still!” snapped his brother.
The caution, however, was unnecessary, for there came sounds of scuffling from above that would have drowned anything but the loudest shout from below.
An instant the boys gazed at one another. Then, actuated by the same impulse, they sprang for the ladder and were mounting it, when a form appeared in the hatchway, and a foot began to feel for a ladder rung, while a voice snarled:
“You’ll never put me in irons.”
“Quick, some of you, Adams, Morris! Don’t let the fellow get below!” roared the voice of the captain.
A mocking laugh was the oiler’s answer as he threw his legs about the ladder and started to slide down.