“Mr. Lazar,” he ordered sternly, “allow these two young gentlemen to go down into the ‘Vidette’ immediately.” Lazar hesitated but an instant. “Certainly, sir. If you say so,” he answered with a wave of the hand to the waiting lads. The two boys scrambled hastily down the Jacob’s ladder from the lower boom on to the deck of the “Vidette.” Phil made his way to the machinery space. The engineer and fireman were bending over the little feed pump, which supplied the boiler with water. Phil glanced at the gauge glass; there was no water showing. He tried the test-cocks, then looked quickly at the steam gauge. “The boiler is half full of water, but there is only fifty pounds pressure, and the fires are hauled,” he cried angrily. “Put back your fire,” he shouted to the fireman, pushing him fiercely toward the furnace, then he started in himself to get the feed pump running. O’Neil stood by petrified with astonishment at the way he pitched into the intricacies of the machinery. “The engineer’s a new one, sir,” he whispered to Phil. “I don’t believe he knows much about this kind of engine. The officer of the deck took our regular engineer out and put this man in about an hour ago.” Phil had been too much occupied trying to find the trouble to grasp the meaning of the coxswain’s words. He followed up each pipe and made every test he had been taught at Annapolis to use in finding the trouble with these machines. “We are beaten,” he cried despondently to Sydney, at his wit’s end. The minutes flew by. Then he gave a shout of joy, as he saw a tiny steel wedge jammed in between the moving parts of the pump. A tap with a hammer and the pump started up, pumping precious water into the boiler. In but a few minutes more the “Vidette” had cast off her line and was steaming with ever increasing speed toward the entrance to the harbor. Both lads scanned the horizon to seaward. There was nothing in sight. “It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Phil exclaimed dejectedly. “We don’t even know which way they turned when they reached the entrance.” “Begging your pardon, sir,” O’Neil interrupted earnestly, “there ain’t but one place for her to go, and that is to Mariel. I ran on a line of coasting steamers once and I know somewhat of the water about here. There ain’t no place to land the other way for fifty miles.” “O’Neil, you are a trump,” cried Phil, much relieved. “We may catch her yet; she has over a half hour’s start, but we have four knots better speed.” Reaching the harbor mouth, O’Neil put his helm hard astarboard and headed the “Vidette” to the westward along the coast line. “How close to shore can we run?” asked Sydney, addressing the coxswain. “After we round the next point of land, sir, as close as you please,” he answered. The minutes dragged heavily along. The point was reached and rounded, then the “Vidette” was headed to close with the shore line.