“They’ve stopped rowing,” Sydney exclaimed, “and with this breeze they must be going away from us fast.” The midshipmen gazed at each other in consternation. What should be done? Should they steam ahead blindly, awaiting the day? Might not the proa have discovered the presence of the gunboat and changed its course? Both knew that ten miles to the eastward treacherous coral reefs covered the sea, through which the gunboat must navigate cautiously, even if it were possible to go at all. Was the outlaw again to escape? Then their attention was attracted by a new sound as the chug of oars came to their ears, but this time from a direction opposite to that taken by the first boat. “It’s a second boat,” Phil exclaimed in a troubled voice. “What can it mean?” The noise of the approaching boat came closer and closer and then suddenly out of the night a great sail appeared, while a Spanish hail drifted across the waters: “Espinosa is in a proa ahead of us. This is Colonel Martinez.” Both lads recognized their friend’s voice, even before he declared his identity, and now with his mind made up that he must act quickly, Phil called back: “I shall steam directly ahead for the reefs; stand by to take a line.” The active natives caught the tow-line heaved to them from the stern of the gunboat, and the “Mindinao” at full speed raced toward the gray in the eastern sky, while the proa astern lowered her sail and leaped joyfully in tow of the steamer. O’Neil stood like a statue at the bow’s gun, his eyes endeavoring to pierce the gloom ahead. His eager eyes were conscious of the growing light. Farther and farther his range of vision grew; now a mile of sea on either bow was in sight, but barren of sail. Then from out the dissolving mist, the sailor saw a dim shadow and knew that the quarry at last was found and in easy range. “I see her, sir,” he hailed joyfully. “Can I give her a polite invitation to heave to?” “Don’t hit her, O’Neil,” Phil answered excitedly; “put a shell as close as you can. She’s nearly up to the reefs.” A roar and a blinding flash was O’Neil’s answer to his captain’s words. Shell after shell was hurled after the fleeing boat but the Americans could see no inclination to obey the order of the challenge. Now silhouetted against the eastern sky, with a great spread of sail, Espinosa was straining everything to escape. From out the sea ahead a fiery sun arose, throwing its brilliant light into the eyes of those on the gunboat. “Be careful, O’Neil,” Phil urged earnestly. “Señorita Rodriguez may be in that boat.” “She’s safe with our soldiers,” Sydney called from the deck below, at hearing his friend’s caution. “I’ve just talked with Martinez astern.” “Put a shot in that boat,” Phil cried, and the roar of the three-pounder echoed his words. Then suddenly a gentle tremble of the “Mindinao” made her young captain turn pale, as he rang for full speed astern.