Phil had from a distance observed his Japanese friend. After he had ignored the midshipmen’s presence and addressed himself to Impey, the lad had backed away, but kept just within ear-shot. He saw that Takishima was armed with a revolver, and knew that each man of the waiting boat’s crew also was armed. The destroyer had now ranged close alongside, and he could read the interest in the faces of its crew, so close was it. The mist was beginning slowly to shut down; a warm south wind had sprung up, and in contact with the cold sea-water was giving up its moisture in fog. O’Neil stood at the gangway, the boat-line in his hand to which the small boat was holding. There seemed no possible loophole of escape. “I shall put some of our sailors on board,” Takishima said, turning toward the gangway, and then for the first time addressing Phil. “Will you come back with me to the destroyer ‘Hatsuke’? I can land you somewhere, and you and your friends can return to Yokohama by train without publicity.” Tears of mortification stood in Phil’s eyes. His plans had miscarried. He bowed his acknowledgment to Takishima for his consideration. In being landed he and his companions would escape the disgrace of returning in the seized “Sylvia.” Takishima raised his voice and hailed the “Hatsuke.” An answer quickly came back, and the water was churned to foam as the destroyer shot ahead, turning with port helm. Phil understood that Takishima had ordered the officer in command to come alongside the yacht in order to transfer passengers. While all eyes watched the graceful lines of the fleet craft, suddenly, as if a curtain had been dropped, the “Hatsuke” dissolved from sight. Acting upon an impulse as daring as it was sudden, Phil grasped the duplicate engine telegraph near the mainmast, and rang up full speed ahead. No word was spoken, but as the yacht forged ahead, O’Neil threw overboard the life-line to which Takishima’s boat was made fast. The men in the boat gazed up in startled surprise, but O’Neil waved his hand in the direction the destroyer had disappeared, and almost at once the boat had drifted astern and out of sight in the fog. Takishima was completely taken by surprise. His hand went quickly to his revolver, but Sydney’s iron grip on his wrist prevented him from drawing it from its holster, while Phil’s revolver peered into his angered face. “It’s our turn now, Taki; be game!” Phil exclaimed. “This gun isn’t loaded, and I wouldn’t shoot you if it were. It’s only a figure of speech; but if you try to draw I’ll wrestle you for your gun, and I am a lot bigger than you are and have a few friends to help me.” Takishima wrenched himself angrily away, and the next minute his brightly polished revolver was held at Phil’s head, and it was only too plain from the light in his eyes that he would not hesitate to use it. CHAPTER XX THE “HATSUKE”