“Now, Mr. Merriwell,” he said with sarcastic dignity—"now, Captain Merriwell, I invite you to drink with me. I am sure you won’t refuse. Lazaro, hold the whisky to the young gentleman’s lips. Let him taste the kind of stuff that real men drink. It will do him good. See that he drinks it. Make him drink it! Confound him! Drive it into him!" Lazaro took a glass of the stuff and started to obey. “Wait!” commanded Chet. “Come to think of it, I would like that job myself. I want to be the first person to put a drink into him. Give me the booze.” In taking the glass from Lazaro’s hand he dropped it, and the stuff was spilled as the glass smashed on the floor. “Never mind that; plenty more,” laughed Arlington. “Give him another geyser! Fill her up!” Another glass of liquor was handed him, and he stepped in front of Dick, who was vainly trying to catch his eye. “Oh, you’re a wonder, you are!” sneered Chet. “You think you can make me obey you just when you want to, but I know you. I know better than to let you catch me this time. Here, you, drink—hang you, drink!” He bent over and held the glass to Dick’s lips. “Drink!” he again snarled. Merriwell’s lips remained firmly closed. “Won’t you!” grated Chester. “I bet you will! I know you will! I will choke you till you do it!” With his left hand he seized Dick by the throat. A moment later Merriwell rose to his feet, tearing his hands free, and struck Chet a blow that sent him clean across the cabin. With his feet still bound, Dick was unable to follow up this advantage. Chester recovered and gave a cry to Lazaro and the sailors: “Jump on him! Down him!” he panted. As they started toward Merriwell another surprising thing happened, for Tom Moran suddenly produced a pistol, which he leveled at them. “Hold up, you drunken dogs!” he exclaimed. “This thing has gone too far! It stops right here! Back up, or I will blow you full of holes!” They halted in their tracks. “What?—what?—what?” gasped Chet, in astonishment. “What ails you, Moran? What do you mean?” “I mean that I am not a crazy fool, if you are. I don’t care to go to the jug for this piece of business. Here you, Merriwell, take this knife and cut those ropes that hold your feet.” With his free hand Moran produced a jackknife, which he quickly passed to Dick, who opened it and freed his feet with a single slash at the ropes. “Now, I think we’re pretty near good for this whole drunken gang,” said Moran. “I’ve had a little booze to-night myself, but I have some sense left.” “You traitor!” palpitated Arlington; and then, with a sudden lurch, he staggered toward the companionway. Dick had closed the heavy jackknife given him by Moran, but he still held it in his hand. As Arlington reeled to one side Merriwell saw crouching, just beyond the cabin door, a dark-faced man, whose beady eyes glittered in a deadly manner and whose hand clutched the haft of a knife. It was Tony!