“All right, if you think I can do any harm,” said Tom quietly, “but take that handkerchief out of Nicky’s mouth. What can he do by talking that can hurt you? It’s simply cruelty to gag him!”
“Take it out!” snapped Don Ortiga. “We don’t intend to be cruel, but you fellows are interfering with us and we are going to use you to cover our escape—then we will see what to do with you later.”
“All right,” agreed Tom, pretending to extend his arms toward Tew.
“Keep away!” shouted Senor Ortiga to the cutter.
But she had headway and was coming on. Lieutenant Sommerlee had decided that he must risk the possibility of harm to the boys—he held that they would hesitate a long moment before they would stain their hands with a crime against life.
In that he was right, because the most hardened criminals are really cowards and, unless maddened or morally perverted, they will be more afraid of death than of imprisonment, and will weigh their chances of escape to the last instant before actually committing a major crime.
Nicky, seeing that his chance might have come, suddenly wrenched his shoulder out of the grip of the sailor, at the same instant giving the sailor a thrust with his hands, and ripping them free of the rope. The sailor staggered, being off balance in his crouching position; he cannoned against Don Ortiga.
Tom, fastening the strap of the jumper he had donned, saw Nicky’s move, and, being upright, saw Lieutenant Sommerlee rise in the cutter and take aim at one of the men.
With a catlike leap he sprang against Tew, knocking him off his feet against the engineer; the two men clutched one another for support.
Tom, his plan of action made sure, had seen a wrench lying on the floor. For this he reached; he got it in his hand and arose. He turned toward the engine. The wrench rose in the air and came down with all Tom’s force, sidewise, toward the carbureter.