“Where are they--near?” Phil asked anxiously, jumping out of his bunk and hastily dressing. “I can’t say to that, sir, but if they are only talking to each other they are not far away. If they are talking to some one at a distance, they may not be near us at all.” O’Neil closed the door after delivering himself of his message, to return to the wireless room, while Phil finished dressing and was soon on deck. The air was balmy and warm, while myriads of flying fish could be seen sailing gracefully over the swelling sea in their mad haste to escape from this hurrying monster. “Ah! there you are,” Sydney called from the bridge, spy-glass in hand. Phil hurriedly joined him. “There appears to be a big bank of smoke over there,” he exclaimed, pointing to the western horizon, “and a curl of smoke on our starboard bow.” Phil took the glass and gazed eagerly for several minutes in both directions. “That’s a scout,” he said confidently, “and if it is, the fleet is where the other smoke is. I wish I dared go over and investigate,” he added, “but we’d be between them and might fall into a trap.” Sydney nodded his head. “Look,” he exclaimed, catching Phil’s arm. “I can see a lot of columns of smoke there.” Sure enough, the strangers were firing up their boilers. Small black balls of inky smoke seemed to roll up above the horizon to the westward and spread out in mushroom shape above, joined by tiny, hardly discernible stems. “There are at least twenty-five ships there if there’s one,” Sydney cried, relieving Phil of the spy-glass and looking himself long and eagerly. “It’s pretty nearly the whole Japanese fleet.” The curl of smoke ahead became more distinct as the yacht overhauled it through her greater speed. “There’s more smoke on the port bow,” Captain Bailey announced nervously. He did not seem to be happy in the position of his vessel. “The two vessels seem to be drawing in toward each other, too,” he added, taking bearings over the deck compass. “It doesn’t look good to me.” [Illustration: “_THERE ARE AT LEAST TWENTY-FIVE SHIPS_”] Phil’s pulse beat faster. He saw that the two vessels, undoubtedly scouts sent ahead of the main fleet, were not over eight miles apart. To go in between them meant that they would pass with the yacht within range of their largest guns. A lucky shot through the engines or boilers of the “Sylvia” would spoil everything. “I think it wiser to keep away, sir,” O’Neil said respectfully but earnestly. The sailor was standing at the lad’s elbow, his strong face showing marked anxiety. It was plain to see that the boatswain’s mate believed that Phil was being too rash. Phil once more carefully scanned the horizon ahead to make sure that there were no other than the two sail already sighted which he had made up his mind were scouts ahead of the main fleet.