"Glad to meet you, Motor Matt," smiled Coleman, as he leaned to take Matt's hand. "You've done a fine thing for all of us, and it's something that won't be forgotten in a hurry."
"Dose iss der kindt oof t'ings vat he alvays does," bubbled Carl.
"Cassidy and Tirzal seem to have come aboard without gettin' wet," remarked Clackett, with a glance of contempt in the direction of the mate.
Cassidy sat on the deck with his head bowed, as abject a figure as Matt ever saw.
"Which way now, Matt?" asked Dick.
"Belize," replied Matt. "Go down the ladder and let Tirzal take the wheel until we all get below; after that, Tirzal can steer from the tower. Go below, gentlemen," said Dick. "You'll feel more comfortable after you dry your clothes, and then we can have a talkfest. There are a lot of things I've got to find out."
Ysabel led the descent into the periscope room; Coleman followed her, then Tirzal, then Speake, and then Jordan. Clackett and Carl brought up the rear of the procession, both, with their eyes, telling the melancholy Cassidy what they thought of him as they dropped down the tower hatch.
"Better go below, Cassidy," said Matt calmly.
For answer, the mate jerked a revolver from a belt at his waist and lifted the muzzle to his breast.
In a twinkling, Matt had hurled himself across the slippery deck and knocked the weapon out of Cassidy's hand.