The captain hurried off into the darkness, while Tim, the mate and Tom kept up a running fire of comment with the sailors overhead.
"Come along and jine the bunch of us," yelled Tim, in his best Celtic. "We're after holding a small reception in our private quarters."
No response to his sally came from the hatch, and Tom' noticed the gradual addition of a number of sailors with lanterns about the opening.
"Hope there's enough of them left from this little tea-party to trim ship," said the mate, who had undertaken the duty of watching their three prisoners.
"Guess they'll take good care of their own skins," Tom replied. "Even if they don't show much regard for ours."
"Your friends is havin' a foine time," shouted Tim, whom no situation could frighten, "and we'll all be glad to see yez with us if you'll only accipt our invitation."
"You'd better be careful or they will be with us altogether too soon," interposed Tom.
"Right you are," the mate continued. "They won't stay away from us after they find we are unarmed for very long."
The group on deck had evidently reached some conclusion at this minute for a pair of legs followed by a long blue jacketed body appeared on the upper rungs of the ladder and the first of the sailors began a careful descent. He carried a long dirk in his belt, and the three on guard shouted to the captain that they would have to join him soon.
"Hold up a minute and I'll be ready for you," the captain replied. "Just a couple of shakes, and we'll be all right."