During the next two days the two American sailors with Randall and Wells and all the Chinese deck hands were busy changing the outside appearance of the yacht. When it was all finished the two midshipmen surveyed the effect in wonder; the “Sylvia” had been quite obliterated, and in her place there was a white gunboat. The shape of the deck houses had been concealed with painted canvas, with cleverly painted open gun ports and guns protruding. Fighting tops had been built on the masts and the top of the lofty spars had been sacrificed. In every respect, even to the bow and stern guns which they had discovered hidden away in the hold of the vessel, the “Sylvia” was now the counterpart of one of the small gunboats owned by many nations for tropical service. The lads were loud in their praise for the sailors’ handicraft, and Bill Marley received his share with his usual silent smile of pleasure. Takishima, after refusing the offer made to him, went to his stateroom, and Phil, true to his word, after again endeavoring to extract a promise from the obdurate Japanese, turned the key in the lock and gave it over to the keeping of Marley, who was to be the jailer. Impey kept to himself. The midshipmen did not encourage more friendly relations, and he was apparently man of the world enough to see that they did not desire him at their councils. The fog still held, and the “Sylvia” was making her best speed through the almost calm water. Phil and Sydney had thrown themselves down in steamer chairs on the after-deck, while O’Neil and Impey’s assistants were casually conversing near by but out of ear-shot. “Captain Inaba and his ships must be nearly down to Formosa by this time,” Phil said thoughtfully. “And if so he will soon be trying to get the Chinese squadron by wireless.” “By to-morrow night if the Chinese ships are near Singapore, he might possibly get them,” Sydney replied after a few minutes of thought upon the distances. “To-morrow we shall be within talking distance of the shore stations in Luzon.” Phil nodded his agreement with his companion’s calculations. “But if I can be sure that I am far enough ahead of Captain Inaba,” Phil declared earnestly, “I shall not try to call up our admiral, but steer for Singapore Straits direct.” Sydney looked up in astonishment. “I have been thinking over this plan for some time, Syd,” he continued quickly. “You see, if we wire our admiral and he starts out with the fleet he might run afoul of Captain Inaba.” “But how can you be sure as to where Captain Inaba and the Japanese fleet are?” Sydney asked, much mystified. “Only by running some risks, endeavoring to sight them and count the ships, and find out the speed they are making,” Phil replied; “and if by bad luck we are chased by a vessel faster than we are, then maybe O’Neil’s work may help us to make them think that we are only a harmless gunboat, after all.” Sydney opened his eyes in astonishment.