“Gorry!” cried Clif in amazement. “He’s been masquerading as the officer of the deck, and he’s fooled the fellows nicely. Hurray!”
He stepped from the storeroom in a hurry, and just in time to see Toggles, Trolley and Joy seize Crane. The latter tried to escape, but he was bound and gagged in a jiffy.
Clif first assisted in the operation, then he slapped Toggles on the back and said, gleefully:
“You are a brick, old fellow. It’s a great scheme, and it came just in time. How did you do it?”
“Got one of the wardroom boys to loan me a coat and cap,” replied Toggles, in his quick, jerky way. “Got a lantern. Came down here. Scared fits out of those third class fellows. Sent them up to report on the quarter-deck.”
“Sent them up to report on the quarter-deck?” gasped Clif, ready to explode with laughter. “You don’t mean to say——”
“He’s a cuckoo,” chimed in a swarthy, black-haired youth, whose face proclaimed him a Japanese. It was Motohiko Asaki, whose distinguished name had long since been converted into the more easily pronounced appellation, “Trolley.”
“Him’s a cuckoo, a bully boy with eyeglasses,” he reiterated, giggling placidly. “Him got great head. Him fooled third class cadets and ordered them to quarter-deck. Officer up there will think they dream, and he——”
“Stow it, Trolley!” interrupted a lean, solemn-faced lad named Joy. “Your tongue is wound up like a Waterbury watch. We are losing valuable time.”