It was voted, however, that no watch was necessary so the boy composed himself to sleep drawing the blankets closely to his chin.
Scarcely had he gotten into a quiet sleep before Rowdy came to his bunk and insisted on making himself a bed fellow of the boy.
At last everything was still. Only the heavy breathing of the tired boys gave evidence of life aboard the Fortuna as she rode to her anchor, swinging with the currents and wavelets. Her riding lights were burning brightly, fed from the storage batteries below decks, and everything to the passer by betokened peace.
Once Rowdy lifted a watchful eye and growled menacingly. Arnold stirred uneasily in his sleep and threw an arm over the dog.
Suddenly a shriek of agony pierced the air with startling distinctness. Shriek after shriek followed intermingled with cries of distress. The boys bounded from their beds in alarm.
FIRST AID AND AN ESCAPE
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” came the cries of pain. “Oh! Oh! Oh!”
Quickly Jack’s hand stole toward the switch that controlled the overhead lights. Instantly the cabin was a blaze of light.
“What’s the matter?” cried the boy looking toward the source of the disturbance. “What’s going on here, anyway?”
Rowdy bounded off his bed and dashed toward the forward cabin with a vim and energy that bespoke ill for someone.
“Here, Rowdy,” commanded Arnold, “come here, sir.”
Slowly the dog returned to his master’s side. The hair on his shoulders was standing straight on end while hoarse growls issued in thunderous tones from his throat around which the muscles tightened in anticipation of a desperate struggle with an enemy.
“There’s someone in there,” declared Harry in a tone of discovery. “Somebody came aboard while we were asleep.”
“Sure enough,” scorned Tom rumpling Harry’s usually smooth hair. “What did you suppose was making all that noise, friend?”
“Well, there is someone in there,” stoutly maintained Harry.
“Hush, boys,” commanded Jack. “Let’s see who it is.”
Automatics were produced from under pillows and the boys moved forward to investigate. The cries still came loudly.
“Who are you and what do you want?” questioned Jack.
“Oh, help me, help me,” groaned the figure lying at the foot of the companion-way. “Help me, I’m hurt badly.”
“Where are you hurt?” inquired Jack solicitously bending over the prostrate form curled in a heap. “I’ll help you if I can.”
“My foot, oh, my foot,” wailed the stranger. “It’s cut off.”
“Look at the blood,” declared Frank. “Good gracious, that’s a bad wound. Wonder how he got it. How did he get aboard?”
“There’s something sticking into his foot,” cried Harry. “Look at that thing projecting from his foot. No wonder it bleeds.”