Prowler had hardly finished speaking before, with a final long-drawn piercing yowl, the duet of the Pirate Chief and Miss Tabitha Tortoise came to an end, and an intermission of ten minutes for refreshments was announced.  From an inner room at the back of the hall a dozen or so white cats in caps and aprons trotted forth bearing large trays loaded with very curious-looking cat-eatables.

Rudolf and Ann had now their usual trouble with Peter who at first absolutely refused to budge until he had tasted at least “one of each”.  When at last he was made to understand that the trays around which the cats were so greedily thronging contained nothing more inviting than roasted rats and pickled fish fins, and that these delicacies would probably not be offered to prisoners anyway, he regretfully allowed himself to be pushed through a door at the side of the hall and hurried off in the direction of the shore.  Although the children, followed closely by the two mates, had managed to slip away almost unnoticed in the general excitement, yet they knew their escape must soon be discovered and they ran as fast as ever they could go.

At last they reached the wharf and scrambled up the side of the Merry Mouser, expecting each instant to receive some kind of challenge from the two spotted cats on guard.  Much to their surprise they received none.  This was soon explained, for the two common sailors were found in the cabin, curled up in the Captain’s bunk, fast asleep.

“A nice mess they’d be in if the Chief caught ’em!” cried Growler.

Prowler said nothing, but winked at his friend, and taking a piece of strong string from his pocket, he bound the poor spotted cats’ eight paws all in a bunch together and left them to continue their nap.  This little matter attended to, all hands now turned their attention to raising the sail, and by the time the advance-guard of cat pirates came rushing down through the pussy-willow grove in their pursuit, the Merry Mouser, borne along by a breeze that was something more than a catspaw, was fast leaving the shores of Catnip Island behind her.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VIII

MUTINY ON BOARD

For some time the children leaned over the rail looking back at the group of cats gathered at the water’s edge.  The form of the Pirate Chief towered above them all as he ran up and down the beach yowling out all sorts of commands to which was paid very little attention by any one, and stopping every little while to flourish an angry paw in the direction of the Merry Mouser.

Peter regarded him sadly.  “Poor old Mitts,” he sighed, “it was an awful mean trick to play on him!  He hasn’t got any other boat and he looks so mad, I b’lieve he’d swim after us if he could.”

“He could, all right,” said Prowler gravely, “but he’d get his paws wet, and that’s a serious thing, you know.”