Before they could question him or get his inquiry as to what they wanted, the door behind him slammed as did the engine room door.
There was confusion, then oaths, then excited stamping; of course the time it took them to discover that they were trapped was not long; nor did it take overlong to get the knob back onto the door after an excited hand wrenched it away. But the time was enough.
When the infuriated members of the hi-jacker band finally raced up the deck toward their tender, they found the dipped end of a rope as a memento.
The Mystery Boys, well away and out of sight around the island, were rowing the captured tender with all their strength.
“We can’t——claim salvage!” panted Nicky. “But we are out of the grip of those men—and we have a boat—we’re free men again!”
“And there’s a light—a boat or something, up the coast,” cried Tom. “Nicky, pull hard on your port oar—you too, Cliff.”
“Right-o!” they answered with a will, pulling the tender on a swinging curve. “We’ll pull for it. It may be the cutter!”
It was stationary, and not very far away; but as they neared it they saw that it was not the cutter.
It was another cabin boat, lying, apparently, at anchor.
Cautioning his chums not to hail until they knew whether it was a suitable craft for their rescue, they drew slowly closer.