Even if fortune was kind to them, and they were able, in some manner, to get Matt away from his guards, there was a barracks full of soldiers within sound of the captain's voice; and how could Matt, and Dick, and Glennie run the gantlet of the whole town?
But Glennie had given his word, and he would stand to it, no matter what the cost. It was a matter of pride with him to meet any plan Dick Ferral might propose.
The ensign did not think, for a minute, that there was anything unjust in taking Matt by force away from the captain of the war ship. A mistake had been made by the captain, but there was no time to let the blunder be rectified by the ordinary course of events. As Dick had said, the fate of the Grampus might depend on her leaving Punta Arenas the next morning.
The cause was a just one—but foolhardy.
Matt and his guards had landed at quite a distance from the pile of timbers behind which Dick and Glennie were lying concealed. The path from the wharf led past the end of the pile, and it had not been difficult to discover that the approaching party was following the path.
The party was close, very close, as the two youths knelt near the ends of the timbers, listening to the crunch of footsteps and prepared for their reckless work.
"What's your plan?" whispered Glennie.
"Nothing but to jump out at 'em with our fists," whispered Dick. "As soon as Matt knows what's up, he'll help. And say, he's got a 'right' that could put any one of that outfit to sleep!"
"I hope none of us will be put to sleep while we're getting Matt in shape to use his 'right.'"
"Don't croak!"