The sounds from the cabin had ceased now, and the four sat impatiently awaiting the moment when they could make their great dash for liberty. Gradually it grew quiet and when they decided that it was safe to venture through the cabin to the after-deck, they quietly loosened the trap and peered into the dimly lit cabin.
The recumbent figures of half a dozen mutineers were seen by the aid of the smoky swinging lamp. Judging from the sounds of heavy breathing, this particular party of sailors were fast asleep. The captain, Tim, the mate and Tom crawled carefully through the opened trap, pushed it closed after them and tip-toed for the short ladder leading to the deck.
The swinging doors at the top of the ladder banged at this moment and the four crouched down, fearing that they would have to start their battle then and there, and under most unfavorable circumstances. One of the men muttered, rolled over and resumed his heavy breathing and the danger was over for a moment.
Following the captain, the three Patriots ascended the steps, pushed the door open and with a rush made for the man at the wheel. Not expecting an attack from this quarter, he was overcome with slight effort, and while Tim and the captain carried him to the ladder leading to the main deck, the mate took charge of the wheel and Tom made fast the cabin doors through which they had just emerged.
"What's going on up there?" came a voice from the lower deck. "Everything all right, eh?"
"Sure, foine as silk," shouted Tim.
"Whot's that?" the sailor queried, noticing the commotion about the wheel.
"Your captain, you scoundrel!" that individual replied. "And now I guess we have got you fellows where you belong. The first man that starts for this deck gets what you all deserve."
"Tim!" called Tom. "You and the mate take the starboard ladder, and I'll try the port. Don't let 'em get within twenty feet of you. And don't be afraid to use those muskets. That's what we've toted 'em up here for."