Trolley lazily threw himself back upon a bench and observed:
“What we do now, fellows? We no can stay out here. Maybe ship no come.”
“What do you propose, your highness?” asked Joy, with fine sarcasm. “Shall we walk or take a cake of soap and wash ourselves ashore?”
“It’s a pity we can’t carry Le Destructeur into some port,” said Clif, musingly. “She seems to be seaworthy, and I guess the coal supply is all right.”
Trolley sat up and brought his hands together with an emphatic gesture.
“We do it; we do it,” he cried, excitedly. “I know how to run marine engine. I learn a little in Japan. Hurray! you be captain, and I be engineer. Hurray!”
Clif stared at him for a moment, then his face brightened.
“By George, Trolley, that’s the very ticket,” he exclaimed. “If you can run an engine we’ll take the old tank into the nearest port. There are charts and instruments in the captain’s cabin. And there are four of us—five if that chump comes back—and we ought to do it.”
Clif began to pace up and down the narrow room. That he was greatly taken with the idea was plainly evident. Suddenly while he chanced to be near the extreme after end, the mysterious voice wailed:
“Ach, du lieber! Carramba! Dame agua pronto!”