was running the risk of being shot. But his life in our navy had made him bold, and seeing nobody in sight, he leaped out on deck, and hurried with all speed to the ladder leading to the brig. Soon he was in front of the barred door.
"Grandon! Vincent!" he called, softly.
"Hullo, who's that?" came in the voice of the first mate.
"It is I, Larry. Is Vincent there?"
"Yes. Where did you come from?"
"The cabin." Larry unbarred the door. "Are you hurt?"
"Not much. How are you?"
"I am all right, and so are the captain and Luke Striker. They are in the hold, ready to come on deck. We have made Wilbur a prisoner."
"Good enough," came from the boatswain. "The rascals! They ought all to walk the plank!" he added, vehemently.
The two men had their hands tied behind them, but it was an easy matter for Larry to liberate them. Then each provided himself with a belaying pin, and all three of the party stole to the deck.
From the forecastle and the cook's galley came loud talking, showing that the mutineers were making themselves at home. One man was trying to do some cooking.
