"You vould t'ink dot brass-plated feller owned der eart'," remarked Carl. "Ve vas free American cidizens, py shinks, und he don'd got some pitzness shpeaking to us like vat he dit."
"Nonsense, Carl," laughed Matt, "that's only his way."
The sailors on the war ship gave the rope ladder a heave that sent it close enough for Matt to catch it. Gripping the iron rungs, Matt allowed himself to swing from the submarine's deck. He was jarred a little as he struck the armored side of the war ship, but he went on up to the rail quickly and easily.
An officer said something to him and took him by the arm. Leading him aft, they entered a passageway at the break in the poop, walked along it a few steps, and then turned in at an open door.
Two men, who were armed with muskets and looked like marines, stepped on each side of Matt as he entered.
Dick, Glennie, and Carl, down on the deck of the Grampus, had watched Matt vanish over the rail with anything but easy minds.
"I don't like the looks of things, mates," said Dick, "and that's a fact."
"Me, neider," added Carl. "Dot feller in der brass drimmings shpeaks like ve vas togs. He iss some Shmard Alecs, I bed you."
"I don't think Matt ought to have gone aboard the war ship," averred Glennie.
Dick turned on him in a flash.