The captain took the short ladder to the yacht's poop deck in two leaps. His expression showed both worry and anger.
"Lieutenant Pennington!" he clipped out harshly. "I'm afraid you're needed below, in my cabin. Commander Winslow...."
He paused, biting his lip as if at a loss for further speech.
"Go on, sir!" prompted Red in a strained voice. "What's happened to Don? Has he been taken sick?"
"He's been attacked!" blurted Riggs. "Struck down from behind and then chloroformed. The doctor is with him now."
Red waited for no more. Forgotten were gassed lungs and wobbly knees as he plunged down the ladder and dived into the cabin country, several jumps ahead of Riggs himself.
Moments later Splendor and Mercedes Colby joined the anxious little group. Don Winslow was sitting up in the Captain's swivel chair, looking decidedly "green around the gills." The ship's doctor was binding a compress about his head; and, despite the draft through open door and skylight, the whole cabin smelled of chloroform.
"I guess you people will have to tell me what happened," the young commander was mumbling. "One minute I was looking through a pile of enlistment records--and the next, I was lying on the deck under the table, and feeling sick as a pup! What fell on me, anyhow, Doc?"
"A piece of lead pipe, to judge by the swelling," growled the medical officer. "Someone wanted to put you to sleep in a hurry, and keep you that way. He used chloroform after slugging you."
"You sure came out of it in a hurry, though, Don!" laughed Red Pennington, rather shakily. "I'd no sooner picked you up off the deck than you up and socked me in the eye!"
"I'm still slug-nutty; so you'd better watch out, Mercedes!" grinned Don, taking the glass of water the girl handed him. "But, seriously, I'd like to know who downed me, and why. Have you any idea, Captain Riggs?"
"Yes, Commander," answered the officer gloomily. "I believe it was a brutal attempt at murder by some one of the enlisted personnel. I shall do my best to hunt the scoundrel down before we reach port. Meantime, I can only blame myself for leaving you alone. If I had not returned when I did...."
"Don't take it that way, Captain!" protested Don Winslow, earnestly. "You weren't to blame. And as for the notion of a murder attempt--wouldn't a killer have used something surer than a blackjack and chloroform? Those things are a thief's weapons."