“I think we can all safely turn in,” Phil suggested, after O’Neil had returned from a tour of inspection with a report that everything was going finely, and that it was too thick to see more than a mile astern. “If they send a destroyer after us, it can’t overtake us until the morning. It will be a race of wits,” he added, “and not of speed, if a destroyer once gets us in sight, so sleep is what we need to clear our minds.” The yacht had staterooms for the entire party, and Phil after a short conversation with Captain Bailey, who stuck manfully to the bridge, where he said he would remain all night and would call “all hands” if necessary, lay down in his clothes with a blanket drawn over him and was almost immediately asleep. It seemed that he had only dozed when a sharp discharge as of a gun awakened him. Quickly jumping up he ran out on deck. A bright flashing search-light was visible on the port beam, and Phil’s heart was in his mouth as he saw a flash of fire and heard the whistle of a shell. “The forts,” he cried in alarm. “They have been notified to stop us.” He glanced anxiously at the weather. The rain had ceased, and the wind had fallen light, but the air was misty and warmer. The “Sylvia” was rushing by the nearest fort at the speed of an express train. The search-light was now shining on the black hull, and flash after flash told that the fort was in earnest. Phil found his way to the bridge, passing an excited group of frightened Chinese crewmen on his way. “They’re hitting pretty close, sir,” O’Neil exclaimed as a hissing shell threw a shower of salty spray over the speeding yacht. The boatswain’s mate spoke in a low tone to Captain Bailey, and then quickly disappeared from the bridge, followed by the faithful Marley. It seemed to the two midshipmen, now standing side by side, entirely exposed to the terrific cannonading, that the next minute must be the yacht’s last. Then, as if by command, the firing ceased, but the search-lights, now three in number, illuminated the “Sylvia’s” trim hull from bow to stern. The fort had drawn aft to the quarter and the range was ever increasing. The point of greatest danger was passed. But what was the meaning of the sudden cessation of fire? A cry from Sydney caused Phil to glance astern, expecting yet dreading to see the low olive green hull of a destroyer loom out of the night. “What is it?” he cried in alarm. Sydney silently pointed; there at the peak floated a large American flag. Then that alone had caused the Japanese to stop their cannonade! Phil was about to order it down, but quicker almost than it takes to tell it the fort disappeared in the mist and the flag fluttered down to the deck. “That flag certainly talks, Bill,” O’Neil said as the two men walked quietly back to the bridge.