and took command again. I've got the villains in irons in the brig, but your Uncle Ezra is missing. He fell overboard and was drowned, they tell me."
"No, we have him here," shouted Dick. "It's all right, but there's lots to be explained. I'm coming aboard."
Ten minutes later he was on the deck of his own yacht once more, shaking hands with Captain Barton, while Grit was frisking joyously about, even making friends with Hans, the cook.
"And they made you prisoners, did they?" asked Dick of the commander.
"Yes, and we've been locked up ever since they sneaked up on us at the island, and took the vessel."
"But dey didn't shut me oop," explained Hans, the cook, proudly. "Dey vanted some one to make noodle soup for dem, und dey left me loose. Den I bakes a pie, und I puts in it alretty a file und a saw, und vat should happen but dot Captain Barton he gets der pie und saws mit 'em his way out alretty yet. Yes—no?"
"That's how it happened," declared the commander, with a glance of approval at Hans Weyler. "But how did you ever get on our track, Dick? I was afraid you had died on that island."
"I'll tell you all about it," promised the young millionaire, "but first let me know whom you have locked up as prisoners? Are they a regular band of pirates?"
