Then it snowed! At least, for a brief instant, that was what the victims thought.
Tom was neatly, ruthlessly tripped, being sent sprawling to the floor, while Ab Perkins, snatching up a bolster, which he had ripped open, shook all the fine, downy feathers over him. They sifted down the young captain's neck; they obscured his vision; some of the small feathers fell into his mouth. He fell to spitting them out with vigor, even before he tried to get up.
Nor did Joe Dawson fare any better. If anything, he was rather more roughly handled by Jed Prentiss and Jeff Randolph.
Before either of the newcomers could rise to his feet they were rolled together in the middle of the floor. Ab lifted the mattress from the bed, plumping it down over the two victims. Then all four of the gleeful assailants threw themselves across the mattress, shoving it over the floor, using Tom and Joe, underneath, for rollers.
And, over it all, rose the famous club yell:
"M. B. C. K.! M. B. C. K.! Motor Boat Club! Wow!"
"Oh, but we're glad to see 'em!" yelled Dick Davis, in his deepest tones. "Good old chums! Keep up the welcome, fellows!"
From under the mattress Tom Halstead managed to make himself heard, though his voice sounded muffled indeed.
"Help!" he roared. "Turn out the port watch! Mutiny!"
"Port watch, ahoy! Roll up on deck, you lubbers!" roared Ab Perkins. "Cap'n wants you!"
At that Jed and Jeff left the mattress, darting to where Tom's and Joe's traveling bags lay. These they quickly opened, dumping all the contents on the floor.
"All hands to quell mutiny!" yelled Jed Prentiss. Dick Davis and Ab Perkins joined them on the jump.
That gave Tom and Joe, both very red-faced and much winded, a chance to crawl out from under the mattress.
Yet no sooner did they show their astonished faces than all four of the first-comers began to pelt them with the articles dumped from the traveling bags.
Slippers flew straight and true, landing with swats. Hair brushes, tooth-brushes, cakes of soap, boxes of tooth-powder and numerous other articles filled the air, a veritable cyclone with the fleet captain and the fleet engineer in the middle of it.
"Cut it!" commanded Tom Halstead, sternly. "Oh, if I had my revolver and handcuffs and leg-irons here. This is the last time I'll ever go on deck without 'em. But cut it--anyway!"