“You may be a big man in your own country,” observed Chick, as he twisted Don Solado’s arms behind him until he gasped with pain. “But in America we have better men than you in jail.” He forced Solado to his back on the deck, and then slipped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. This had been swift work with Chick. But Nick Carter had been equally as speedy. Miguel had been taken very much aback when he saw Jean going to the deck, and the detective had taken instant advantage of this fact to jam him against the taffrail and put on him the light, but powerful, nickel-plated handcuffs referred to in a previous chapter. “Now, are you going to come quietly, or shall we have to wake up the crew and tell them you are a couple of rascals the police are after?” asked Nick Carter sternly. “You shall pay for this!” hissed Solado. “We shan’t pay as much as you will,” was the detective’s rejoinder. “Keep quiet, Solado!” warned Miguel. “Are you going to let them do what they want?” growled Solado. “Yes.” There was something in the way this word “Yes” was uttered that put Nick Carter on his guard. He made no comment, however. Instead, he directed Chick to open the gangway where the ladder led down to the water, and then to go down by the rope to the skiff and bring it around. “I will take care of the prisoners while you do it,” added Nick. “Prisoners?” echoed Miguel indignantly. “Do you know who we are?” “I know you have tried to kidnap the Prince of Joyalita, and that I got him away from you.” “Well, what have you to do with the affairs of Joyalita?” “Nothing. But I have something to do with sustaining the laws of the United States,” was Nick Carter’s swift rejoinder. “You can’t kidnap people here without being compelled to suffer for it.” “But how is it any business of yours? You are not a policeman.” “I am a detective,” answered Nick briefly, as he looked over the rail to see that Chick was bringing the boat around. “That is a policeman, I believe.” “A detective, eh?” put in Don Solado sneeringly. “I don’t believe it. What is your name?” “My name is Nicholas Carter.” The two scoundrels stiffened as they heard that dreaded name. It was evident that they never had suspected that they were dealing with a man who had once brought two criminals from the very borders of Joyalita back to New York to answer to a charge of piracy they had committed near Sandy Hook. Don Solado struggled to regain his composure. “Even if you are Nicholas Carter, that gives you no right to treat us in this way,” he barked. “Who gave you authority to put handcuffs on us?” “I took that on myself,” replied Nick. “Here’s the boat at the foot of the ladder. Come on! I’ll explain to the crew in the morning where you are.” “I’ll not go!” roared Solado. “This is an outrage. It is not as if either of us had committed a crime. You can’t prove that we kidnaped any one.”