"There are the three midshipmen I was telling you about," whispered Pennington, slipping a half sovereign into the Englishman's hand. "You thoroughly understand your part in the joke, don't you?" "Don't h'I, though--just, sir!" laughed the undersized Englishman, and strolled away. Darrin and his friends were soon informed by classmates that the launches now making shore-ward were coming in on their last trip for midshipmen. "Well, we're here in plenty of time," sighed Dave contentedly. "Oh, I knew we'd be, with you holding the watch," laughed Dan in his satisfied way. As the three stood apart they were joined by the undersized Englishman, who touched his hat to them with a show of great respect. "Young gentlemen," he inquired, "h'I suppose, h'of course, you've 'ad a look h'at the anchor h'of Sir Francis Drake's flagship, the time 'e went h'out h'and sank the great Spanish h'Armada?" "Why, no, my friend," replied Dave, looking at the man with interest. "Is that here at Plymouth?" "H'assuredly, sir. H'and h'only a minute's walk h'over to that shed yonder, sir. H'if you'll come with me, young gentlemen, h'I'll show h'it to you. H'it's one of h'our biggest sights, h'and it's in me own custody, at present. Come this way, young gentlemen." "That sounds like something worth seeing," declared Dave to his comrades. "Come along. It'll take the launches at least six minutes to get in, and then they'll stay tied up here for another five minutes." With only a single backward glance at the young midshipmen, the undersized Englishman was already leading the way. At quickened pace the young midshipmen reached the shed that had been indicated. Their guide had already drawn a key from a pocket, and had unsnapped the heavy padlock. "Step right in, young gentlemen, h'and h'I'll follow h'and show h'it to you." Unsuspecting, the three middies stepped inside the darkened shed. Suddenly the door banged, and a padlock clicked outside. "Here, stop that, you rascally joker!" roared Dalzell, wheeling about. "What does this mean?" "Big trouble!" spoke Dave Darrin seriously and with a face from which the color was fast receding. CHAPTER VII PENNINGTON GETS HIS WISH "The scoundrel!" gasped Farley, his face whiter than any of the others. Dave was already at the door, trying to force it open. But he might almost as well have tried to lift one of the twelve-inch guns of the battleship "Massachusetts." "We're locked in--that's sure!" gasped Dalzell, almost dazed by the catastrophe. "And what's more, we won't get out in a hurry, unless we can make some of our classmates hear," declared Dave. For the next half minute they yelled themselves nearly hoarse, but no response came. "What could have been that little cockney's purpose in playing this shabby trick on us?" demanded Farley.