The don and Fingal stepped back into the periscope room, closing and locking the door behind them.
Dick went over to his cot and sat down with a mirthless laugh.
"The old hunks has given us his ultimatum," said he. "We must either run the submarine for the revolutionists, or go to Davy Jones. Pleasant prospect, eh, matey?"
"Wonder if they've batted up the same proposition to Gaines and Clackett?" mused Speake.
"Probably they have," said Matt. "They want to secure the services of the submarine's crew, and Gaines and Clackett are important members of the ship's company."
"What sort of a move would it be," suggested Dick, "to pretend to join the swabs and then, watching our chances, cut and run back to Belize?"
Matt shook his head.
"They wouldn't trust us even if we agreed to join them. Didn't you hear what was said about having an armed guard constantly on the boat, as a 'mere formality'? No, Dick, the best thing for us will be to come out flatfooted and let the rascals know just where we stand. If they attempt to take any desperate measures against us, we will claim the protection of Old Glory."
"What do they care about a piece of bunting?" returned Dick. "See how they ran off that American consul? Why, these revolutionists aren't responsible for anything, matey, and they'll do just what they please."
In his own heart, Matt himself felt that Dick was stating the exact truth.