The three Patriots retreated into the darkness of the afterhold, and the first invader jumped to the bottom of the ladder, where he was speedily joined by half a dozen of his companions.
"Let us out of this," cried the captive sailors, who had been roped up by the boys. "Let us have a whack at them too."
"What's in these kegs?" whispered Tom to the mate, pointing to a small round object he had fallen over.
"Powder," replied the mate. "Why?"
Quick as a flash, Tom ran his fingers around the keg, until he found the plug. Working this loose a fine stream of black powder ran out and formed a little mound beside the keg. Tom hastily added more to this and spread it out in a thin line running toward the captain.
Tim, grasping his idea, helped all he could to lengthen the thin trail of powder, and they soon had a fuse of considerable length running from the keg to the trap in the gun room.
The mutineers were now starting toward the four prisoners, and as they approached to within a dozen yards of the keg, Tom cried out:
"Keep back or we'll send this old boat to the bottom. Another step and I'll touch off these powder kegs in front of you!"