Then he saw something more. Nicky, still gagged and bound, was up on the after deck, held there by the arm of a man who cleverly kept as much of his person below the coaming of the after cockpit as he could.
Tom compressed his lips to hold back his first impulse to call out.
How had Nicky gotten into that predicament? What was he doing in the hands of the enemy? He was prompted to shout to Nicky; then sober second thought told him that this might endanger Nicky, and it would certainly draw attention to himself, not very desirable to a white-skinned boy, minus his clothes, and menaced by a pack of men evil enough to treat his chum so rudely.
Tom held his position and watched.
Evidently it was the intention of the hi-jackers to have Nicky discovered and recognized by the crew of the cutter. Such was, in fact, their aim. Mr. Coleson, compelled to expose a portion of his arms in order to keep Nicky in view, did not like his place nor the rough treatment the boy had received. While he had, it is true, helped to tie the boys on a previous occasion, and had then deserted them in their tender, and, later, with Senor Ortiga, had stolen the tender in order to chase the hi-jackers, he had not in any of this actually intended any violence toward his youthful captives or—as they later became—rescuers!
It irked him, and went against his sense of decency, weak though that was, to have Don Ortiga cold-bloodedly crouch beside the engine with a pistol in his hand, holding it trained on Nicky, and, as Mr. Coleson made no doubt, ready to fire with deadly aim.
Tom, on the shore, took in Nicky’s plight. Being elevated above the water edge, he was able to see downward beyond the coaming of the cabin sides, and he observed Don Ortiga’s position and its menace.
Still he held his lips pressed together. A warning would do no good; silence could do no harm.
From the Libertad the hoarse hail of Senor Ortiga came across the water. The Libertad had lost way and drifted very slowly stern-first out of the mouth of the river. Those in the cutter caught the hail also, and the hand Lieutenant Sommerlee had partly raised to call for full speed across the oncoming stem, was suspended in midair.
“There’s a gun trained on this boy,” cried the younger Ortiga. “We have his life in our hands. We mean to get free and if you stop us or fire or try any tricks, the boy pays for it!”