“Throwing sand in their eyes,” he said. “See that light held stationary on our ‘lookout’ hill. They can’t see us with that illumination in their faces. There’s another light playing over the Herzovinian war-ship and another on the Matafeli district where the count lives. It’s just a measure of safety. I heard Commander Tazewell give the order for it as we left the cabin a few minutes ago.” “Those search-lights will nearly put your eyes out,” O’Neil declared. “When I was serving in a torpedo boat destroyer during the war manœuvers we used to run full speed toward a battle-ship after we had sighted her steaming along with no lights showing. Then when she saw us and turned her search-lights on us, there was nothing doing. We couldn’t see nothing, and we didn’t know how far we were away.” The launch cleared the reefs at the entrance, and stood to the eastward. The craft was under the pilotage of Chief Tuamana, who had been delighted to aid his white friends against those he assumed to be his enemies. A course was laid from the chart to take them clear of the reef, and also far enough away so as not to be observed by natives fishing along its edge. “Commander Tazewell especially cautioned secrecy,” Phil said, as he directed O’Neil, who was at the helm, to give the reef a wide berth. “We are to act only at night, and surprise old man Scott. The natives on shore are to know nothing of our move.” “What’s the idea of that?” Sydney asked. “The fear that if the count heard we had cut out the ‘Talofa’ he might use it as an excuse to precipitate matters, I suppose,” Phil replied. “He could give the episode vivid coloring and claim he had hoisted his nation’s flag to prevent the high-handed and lawless acts of the American and English naval commanders. It would sound well to those who didn’t know all the particulars. Of course,” Phil added, “another reason is that if we are seen, Scott may be informed and might resist us by force, and then the situation wouldn’t be so simple; especially if he should use natives of Kataafa’s side to resist us.” Sydney contemplated in silence the gunner’s mate at his side who was critically examining a machine gun on its portable tripod. “The executive seems to have supplied us with enough force to overcome resistance,” the midshipman declared quietly. “A machine gun and ten sailors with rifles should easily overpower Captain Scott and his crew.” Stump had listened in silence. Hearing Sydney’s observation he joined in the conversation. “You’ll need all you’ve got to get ahead of ‘Bully’ Scott,” he exclaimed wagging his head sagely, “unless you surprise him. This here ‘Bully’ Scott is a tough man to go fooling with. I seen him lay out nearly a dozen natives in the Solomon Islands. They were all trying to kill him with head knives and war clubs. He’s a dead shot with a revolver, and he usually carries two of them.”