The midshipmen allowed O’Neil to relieve them of their valises, and entered the “Alaska’s” steam launch. They could hardly suppress a smile as they saw the discomfited Impey disguised in the uniform of an American sailorman.
“To the ‘Sylvia’ first,” Phil ordered, after they had cleared the dock, and the launch, pitching lightly in the rising sea, steamed rapidly out toward the lights of the anchored ships.
“I want you to come aboard and explain to your captain,” Phil said quietly as they reached the gangway of the yacht.
They followed Impey up the ladder, while O’Neil and Marley, with the valises, brought up the rear.
The storm predicted by O’Neil seemed about to be realized. The wind was steadily increasing, and a shower of rain came swiftly out of the night, shutting the launch off completely from the surrounding vessels.
Phil laid his hand impulsively upon Impey’s arm to detain him.
“You must go with us,” he declared. “We cannot appear in this except as passengers. We are all armed, you see,” he added, his revolver, which O’Neil had brought him, shining in his hand. “We are in deadly earnest, Mr. Impey,” advancing his gun so that the yacht owner could see it, “and your two conspirators are both with us.”
Impey started perceptibly, and a look of fear came into his eyes, but the boldness of the midshipmen reassured him. With such men in command the expedition could hardly fail, and at all events he would be safely out of the reach of Japanese law.
“We must sail at once!” Phil exclaimed, glancing into the heavy mist which had shut down over the bay. His hand still clasped Impey’s arm.
“As you will, then,” the latter replied.