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Updated: May 17, 2025
After a minute he slammed the scuttle-board shut, and we heard a heavy, thumping sound and the clanking of a chain. "We're lost!" moaned Riggs. "They are making the scuttle fast with rail-chains. All hands lost, and the Lord have mercy on us! Light the slush-lamp, Mr. Trenholm we're dead men!" "What is their game?"
Now we'll have to step careful until I look up what's left of the weapons, and we can't know what traps they've laid for us about here. Come on, and keep close." We scrambled along the port side, taking care of our footing, for the rail-chains were stripped off the stanchions, and with the deck at an awkward angle there was danger of slipping into the water.
The sharp edge must have cut him, for he uttered a stifled groan, and as he recoiled from me, partly from my blow and partly as the result of a deep roll of the vessel, I wriggled out of my jacket and ran forward. In my flight I bumped into ventilators, stumbled over a hatch-coaming and pulled myself along the swaying rail-chains toward the bow of the vessel.
I asked, in doubt as to the meaning of what he said about the rail-chains, although I was dismayed by the ominous sounds at the scuttle and knew that we must be prisoners in the forecastle. "There is no escape from here," said Riggs. "They hold the ship now, and they'll scuttle her before day comes."
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