Jack and Frank found Matt Murphy sleeping heavily. One look showed an automatic in an ammunition belt suspended from a nail above his head.
With one swoop Jack caught the weapon and belt to him. The movement disturbed Murphy, who was lying fully clothed on his berth, the bandaged arm across his chest. He looked at them, then with a roar raised up, but Frank pushed him back on his pillow. Jack drew the weapon and presented it at him.
"Quiet now," he said, in a low voice. "We don't want to hurt you. But our lives are in danger from the crew and we mean to protect ourselves."
Murphy lay back, and a gleam came into his eyes. He looked from one to the other.
"Are they attackin' ye or do you just guess they're goin' to?"
"They haven't attacked us yet," replied Frank. "But we're not waiting for what we know would come. Look here, Mr. Murphy, you know what the sentiment of the Chinese is toward us. Well, my friend Jack here overheard something this morning which indicated the Chinese planned immediate action. Now--"
"Come right in," invited Murphy sarcastically, looking over Frank's shoulder. "This is my hour for receivin' callers."
Frank whirled.
Mr. Temple and Bob were in the doorway.
"What luck?" he asked eagerly, while Jack, not to be diverted, continued to keep eye and revolver trained on Murphy.
"The man is still drugged," said Mr. Temple. "We found not only one revolver, but two and a knife besides."
"Was the doctor there?" asked Jack.
"No."
"Mr. Murphy, where is the radio room?" Frank demanded.
"On top av this cabin," replied the recumbent man. "But little good it'll do ye. MacFinney, the engineer, is the only wan aboard who can operate it, an' till the engines git goin' there'll be no juice if it's callin' for help you mane to do."
They looked at each other in dismay. Here was a contingency that had not occurred to them. Jack groaned aloud. But ere any of them could speak, the stamp of the engines suddenly began. MacFinney had gotten them repaired, whether his Chinese had tried sabotage or not. The engines seemed to gain confidence. A slight quivering shook the trawler.
"There's your juice, lad," Matt Murphy said gruffly, reaching out his sound hand to pluck Frank's sleeve.
Frank whirled, a broad smile on his face.
"Look here, Mr. Murphy," he declared, "I believe you are on our side at heart, aren't you?"
Murphy sat up on the berth, swinging his legs over the side.
"Not I," he said. "I'm Folwell's man. But when ye point a revolver at me an' order me to get up an' navigate the ould tub, what can I do?"
"Right," said Frank gravely, although his eyes were dancing and the corners of his mouth twitched. "Well, captain, will you please navigate?"
"Sure," said Murphy. "Follow me."
As they started out of the salon and up the companionway stairs, Bob pressed a revolver into Frank's hand.
"Take this," he whispered. "I have the knife."
"But Bob--"
"But nothing. If it comes to fighting at close quarters I've got more beef than you. You keep them off with that revolver, d'you hear? Don't let them get near you."
Frank, the smallest of the three chums, pressed Bob's hand gratefully, grasped the revolver, and followed in the wake of his big comrade, thus bringing up the procession headed by Matt Murphy.
The latter paused as they reached the deck and looked toward the wheel.
He had left it lashed. Not a soul was in sight. The others grouped themselves about him. He addressed Frank.
"I don't like the looks av things," he said. "The Chinks must all be in the fo'c's'le, hatchin' their plots. Will ye trust your prisoner to go below an' see how MacFinney is comin' along? An' do you meantime while the engines are turnin' over, an' ye have your chance, go into the radio room off the bridge. 'Tis up this ladder." He indicated a narrow iron-runged ladder beside him, leading to the tiny bridge above. Keenly he regarded the boy. "Can ye use it when you're up there?"
"Yes, indeed," said Frank. "Well, here goes before a Chinaman sees me.
Come on, gang."
And shinning up the ladder, he entered the room opening from the bridge, with Mr. Temple followed by Bob and Jack hard on his heels. One glance around, and he saw what he was looking for. The control apparatus for sending messages was on a stand against the opposite wall. Adjusting a headphone, and pulling a microphone toward him, Frank reached for the knobs and began calling the Sub Chaser while manipulating them.
CHAPTER XV
ABANDON SHIP
"A fine place for defense," commented Jack, looking about him.
"If we keep down, they may not even discover us," said Mr. Temple.
The front wall of the little radio room was composed of stout wooden panelling to half a man's height from the floor with glass above. Mr.
Temple, Bob and Jack knelt or crouched behind this protective screen, their heads showing just above it, as they looked along the deck toward the forecastle where the crew was housed. The forecastle door was closed.
On the narrow deck below were two immense hatches opening into the hold where when the trawler was legitimately employed, fish would be packed.
But "Black George" used that big hold in which to pack Chinese coolies.
Beyond the hatches rose a stout derrick, and beyond that the forecastle.
Behind the bridge and the radio room, or aft in the trawler, lay the engine room. That way the view was cut off by the blank wall of the radio room against which stood the instruments which Frank was now trying to use.
"Listen," whispered Jack. "Frank's talking."
All three withdrew their gaze from the deck and glanced around.
"He's got the Sub Chaser," whispered Bob, gleefully. "Say, this is too easy. Why, we'll have help here before the Chinese ever realize what has happened. Hear that. Old Frank's giving the Sub Chaser our bearings right now, just as Murphy gave them to him."
A slight scratching sound caused Jack to face about in alarm. The door from the bridge stood slightly ajar, as they had left it on entrance. He listened. Someone was creeping up the ladder. Now he was on the bridge, creeping on hands and knees toward the door. Jack nudged Bob who was next to him, and laid a hand on his lips. They as well as Mr. Temple who was farthest away were all crouched so low to avoid being seen from the deck that they themselves could not look out.
In the silence Frank's voice rang clearly:
"Prisoners, I tell you. Yes, that's our position. What's that? I can't hear you. Hurry. This is ticklish. We've got their radio room, yes. They haven't discovered us yet. But when they do, they'll cut off our juice.
We'll hold out, all right. But come your fastest."
The creeping sound outside had ceased. Jack could bear the anxiety no longer. He raised his head cautiously. Nobody in sight as the deck came into view. The door of the forecastle still was closed. He rose a trifle higher to bring the bridge into view. Then he yelled as the door was dashed inward against him, knocking him to the floor.