"What does Pons say, Glennie?" Matt asked.
"He says that that fellow was one of the men who stole the Pom. The captain is very sure he is not mistaken. There were five in the party."
"Gif the r-r-rascal here!" cried Captain Pons, stretching his arms downward, "gif heem to me! By gar, he is one of ze t'ieves—ve haf captured one of ze t'ieves!"
Matt lifted the unconscious man, and three pairs of hands caught him from above and pulled him up on the wharf. Hardly had the Jap touched the planks than, with amazing suddenness, he jumped to his feet and tried to run.
"He was shamming!" exclaimed Glennie.
"No," answered Matt, as the two negroes deftly caught the fleeing Jap and flung him roughly down on his back, "I'm positive he was not shamming, Glennie. He recovered while we were lifting him to the wharf and thought he could make a bolt and get away."
As the two negroes held the prisoner down on the planks, Captain Pons stepped to his side, bent over, and shook a fist in his face.
What the captain said was in Spanish, which he probably used for the Jap's benefit, and Matt could not follow his words further than to be sure that Pons was threatening and reviling the man for the treacherous part he and his countrymen had played.
The prisoner looked up calmly into the Frenchman's face, seeming to take his capture and his failure to escape as a matter of course.
"We get the torpedo," said he, in good English, the moment Captain Pons ceased talking.