Just then Juarez joined in the search.
“Look in the bow,” he advised, when he found how matters stood.
So paying no attention to the water and spray that came over the bow, they made their way forward, Jim in the lead with the lantern. He swung the light in among the chains, but a deep shadow cast by the lantern hid Jo, who laid low, making himself as small as possible, his head buried close to the deck.
But Juarez’s keen eyes saw a dark object crouching in the furthest corner. He dived past Jim and caught hold of the cowering Jo and in spite of his struggles pulled him to the surface. Jo appeared like a much disheveled criminal when he was dragged out.
“Well,” said Jim, “you are a pretty looking fellow. Where’s your pal?”
“Tom?” questioned Jo grumpily. “He was in the forecastle when I saw him last.”
“You will have to pay for this night’s rumpus,” warned Jim.
“Near made me break my leg,” growled Pete, “with your foolin’.” In spite of his present predicament Jo could not help laughing heartily at the recollection of old Pete and the boy scrambling like a couple of scared cats up the ladder of the forecastle.
“You won’t feel so gay when we get through with you,” said Jim. He marched him with a heavy hand to the cabin which he occupied, shoved the angry and resisting Joseph within and shut and locked the door. Then they started out in a final search for Tom, the only one of this desperate gang of night marauders that now remained uncaptured.
“I declare, I don’t know what has become of that boy,” said Jim.