“Well, it wasn’t doing anything,” replied Berwick, grimly, “but if the engine had been started with that thing in it, it would have made a junk heap of the whole thing in about ten seconds.”
“How did it get there?” asked Tom.
Berwick shrugged his shoulders.
“You know as much about it as I do. Whoever put it there meant mischief. If that infernal little hunchback isn’t around—”
“His first cousin is,” supplemented Tom, “but he has gone ashore now and I don’t believe he will be back.”
“Who are you talking about?” demanded Berwick.
“The steward.”
“I am not quite ready to concede that,” said the professor, “but I think there is a traitor aboard somewhere, and there is mischief brewing. It seems to me that the best thing to do is to get Jim and Juarez on board again until we can clear this thing up. Get over, boys, into the boat. I am going with you.”
Tom ran down the ladder into the boat, followed by the professor, and in a moment the boat was speeding for the shore as fast as Tom and Jo could pull it.
“Where are your guns?” asked the professor, when they landed.