Finally the boy did get out on deck with Pete at his heels, and they ran aft yelling at the tops of their voices.
“Murther!” “Haul in,” according to their different modes of expressions.
“What’s the matter with you wild Indians?” roared the captain from his station at the wheel. “Get below there till you are called.”
It was lucky for them that he was not free to get at them, for the old captain was doubly irritated by their outcry since he had been somewhat nervous himself. Pete and the lad ran aft as though the devil indeed was after them. Jim heard the commotion just as he started down the ladder, and in a jiffy he had collared the runaways.
“Here, shut up!” he yelled, shaking them fiercely. “What’s all this noise about?”
It took a couple of minutes before he could get anything coherent out of them. When he found out what they had to tell he started for the forecastle, grabbing a belaying pin on his way. He was thoroughly aroused, and he knew something was wrong, but he could not divine what it was.
“What’s the matter with those boobies?” cried the captain when he saw the tall figure in the darkness making for the forecastle.
“Think they have seen ghosts,” yelled Jim, “as near as I can make out, dreaming, I guess.”
“I’d give ’em something to dream about if I could lay hands on them,” said the captain. Jim laughed and strode to the hood of the forecastle.
Now let us see what had become of the two practical jokers. It looked very much as though they were trapped and the joke had turned out more seriously than they expected, as is often the case, and they knew it would go hard with them when they were captured.