“We might load up the signal cannon with some slugs, or something,” suggested Jim. He had begged Cliff’s pardon for his part in the tying-up and other maltreatment aboard the Senorita; Jim was not a bad being at heart; he had been employed by Senor Ortiga and Mr. Coleson and had only done their bidding, with no animosity or cruelty in his actions. Cliff had readily forgiven him. Jim, thus made happy, was just as determined to help the side of right and justice as he had been, before, to earn his pay honestly, as he saw honesty and his duty to his employers.
“The cannon wouldn’t carry the slugs any distance,” said Sam.
“But they’d have to pass within three feet of us,” said Jim.
He pointed overside to the channel, where the deep water was at the side of the wrecked vessel. “This boat ran onto coral because her tiller rope broke, remember! There’s plenty of water, and they can pass us, but they’ll have to steer close.”
Cliff nodded.
“If you fellows won’t think I’m bossy,” he said, modestly, “and if Jack won’t be mad and think I want to be the leader, I’d like to say something.”
“Go ahead,” said Jack. “Always open to good ideas, buddy!”
Cliff expounded a plan: his first idea was that to fire at the vessel, if she ever came, would bring about firing in response. If they could in some way lure some of the hi-jackers onto the Senorita, without their own numbers being endangered, several of them might board the other boat and destroy her steering gear, or even capture her.
Jack liked the plan better than he did his own.
“I’m for it,” he said. “If you can get them to stop—if they come out at all, and if they get past the cutter, which I don’t see how they can!”