The Third Officer's remarks came as a bit of a staggerer. Apparently he was conversant with the personal contents of Mr. Heatherington's state-room. He knew that the latter's threat to make use of wireless was sheer bluff. More, he had contrived to overhear the conversation between the charterer and the captain of the yacht, which had taken place behind closed doors. Consequently it was fairly safe to assume that Lopez had been eavesdropping when the matter concerning the black pearls of Talai had been discussed.
"One minute!" continued Lopez. "What you tink of dis?"
He held a small black box through the shattered jalousie. Unsuspectingly Mr. Heatherington stepped into the direct line of sight. In an instant the treacherous Spaniard threw the box and its contents full at the Englishman's face.
Kenneth's parent had barely time to close his eyes before he received a quantity of red pepper hurled with considerable force. It left him gasping, while Lopez and those of his companions who could see the result of the cowardly act roared with laughter.
Immediately the onslaught was renewed, the mutineers using crowbars and capstan bars in their attempt to force the door. One man incautiously thrust one hand through the open jalousie and attempted to throw aside part of the barricade. Kenneth dealt him such a numbing blow that the fellow yelled and danced with pain.
The reply was a knife thrust, the blade being lashed to a pole. The point missed Kenneth's head by a bare inch, but before the improvised lance could be withdrawn Peter seized the pole and with a powerful twisting movement wrenched it from the wielder's grasp.
Hitherto, Mr. Heatherington had hesitated to make use of his automatic. Although his face was smarting terribly and his eyes were watering, he could see how the attack progressed. Unless something were done to prevent it, the barricaded door would be forced before many seconds.
Again the grinning features of Lopez appeared in view. Levelling his pistol, Mr. Heatherington fired at point-blank range straight at the head of the mutineer. In the confined space the report sounded like a thunder-clap. Lopez, giving a howl that would not have disgraced a member of the lupine family, dropped out of sight.
"That's settled Mr. Third Officer!" thought Mr. Heatherington, but to his astonishment and dismay, Lopez reappeared with a diabolical leer upon his olivine features. So close had he been to the muzzle of the pistol that his face was pitted with grains of burnt powder. Knife in hand he thrust again and again.
Stepping back a couple of paces, Mr. Heatherington raised his automatic.
"She evidently threw a bit high before," he said to himself. "I won't miss this time, by Jove!"
Aiming at the Spaniard's throat he pressed the trigger. Even as Mr. Heatherington did so, Lopez held his wrist in front of his eyes. Almost before the echoes of the report died away, the mutineer lowered his arm and grinned at his antagonist.
"Pistol no good!" he exclaimed. "Lopez he see dat so long ago."
Then and only then did Mr. Heatherington realize the cold-blooded preparations of the mutineers. Probably the outbreak had been precipitated by Captain Gregory, but it had been prepared, for all that. Lopez, or one of his satellites had explored the state-room during the Englishman's absence, and had removed the bullets from the cartridges in the magazine of Mr. Heatherington's automatic and had taken the unopened packet of ammunition from the chest of drawers.
Darting from his place of concealment, Kenneth gripped the Third Officer by his curly locks and began hammering his face with his fist. It was Lopez's turn to be taken aback. His hands were fully occupied in trying to prevent his head being pulled through the jalousie, while in his frantic struggle he lashed out with his feet and thus kept his companions from going to his assistance, otherwise Kenneth presented an easy target for a hostile knife-thrust.
When the Third Officer did break loose he left a double handful of hair in Kenneth's grasp, and ran howling along the alley-way with blood dripping from a badly battered nose.
Under Mendoza's direction the attack was not resumed. The mutineers withdrew.
"We've beaten them off!" exclaimed Kenneth.
"Let's hope so," rejoined his father. "I doubt it. They're planning some dirty work, I'm afraid. Unship that folding table, Peter, and let's see if we can secure it over the jalousie."
This was done. The besieged slaked their thirst, and stood by, Mr. Heatherington unloading the magazine of his automatic and fitting short lengths of aluminium rod into each unexpended cartridge to take the place of the extracted bullets.
"I fancy the people who made this photographic tripod never knew to what purpose it was finally put," he remarked as he completed his task. "Even a small chunk of aluminium will stop a man at close range. Stand by, Kenneth, and keep your ears on the alert while I see how poor Gregory is faring."
The Captain was still unconscious, which was perhaps a fortunate thing for him, for the knife was not only deep in his shoulder but it had made a jagged wound; possibly in his headlong dash, Gregory had caught the haft of the weapon against some obstruction.
It took quite a strong effort to withdraw the blade. Then, having washed the wound and applied iodine in liberal quantities, Mr. Heatherington bandaged the injured shoulder, and placed the still unconscious man upon a settee.
"Hark!" whispered Kenneth.
The mutineers had returned. They were apparently securing something to the outside of the door. The sound of a gimlet boring into the hard teak was followed by a slight succession of jars that might well be caused by a screw-driver getting home a stubborn screw.
Mr. Heatherington said nothing but thought a lot. The new move on the part of the mutineers was a sinister one.
A few minutes later the state-room grew dark. Over the two open scuttles sacks filled with junk were lowered. Simultaneously the air-intake of the ventilator was stopped up.
"They're trying to smoke us out, lads!" exclaimed Mr. Heatherington. "Get hold of that pole, Kenneth, and clear that scuttle."
Kenneth tried to do so, but ineffectually. Even when his chum came to his aid the obstacle refused to be moved. The mutineers had seen to that, for the sacks were pressed tightly against the scuttle by means of capstan bars secured to eyebolts in the yacht's side.
Then the unmistakable sound of an auger biting through the woodwork became audible. Even in this the mutineers showed deep cunning, for they chose a spot for the hole to be bored that was not accessible from within.
A faint sickly smell assailed the nostrils of the imprisoned men.
"Chloroform!" muttered Mr. Heatherington.
"Yes, it is chloroform," echoed the mocking voice of Pedro Mendoza. "In ver' few minutes we have you prisoner. Den we let you revive, jus' to let you know who win; den we t'row you to der sharks!"
CHAPTER IV. GASSED
For a space of about thirty seconds, Mr. Heatherington and the two lads stood inactive. The mutineers gave no sound of their presence except for the gentle hiss of the pump, as the nauseating fumes were injected into the cabin.
"Lads!" exclaimed Mr. Heatherington, pointing to a couple of Pyrenes hanging against a bulkhead. "Hang on to those. Clear away that stuff"—indicating the barricade—"and we'll make a dash for it. Anything's better than being slowly chloroformed. With these fire extinguishers we'll gas a few of the villains and my automatic will settle——"
The fumes of the sickly chemical caught Mr. Heatherington's throat, and prevented the sentence being completed. All three realized that unless they acted promptly it would be too late to avenge themselves upon the rascally crew before they "went under".
Desperately the chums tackled the barricade, hurling the things aside until only the locked and bolted door was between them and their enemies—and fresh air.