"Well placed," called out Commander Brice, as he saw the shot fall. "What," he exclaimed a moment later, "the rascal won't heave to! Split the mast, Mr. Drake, six feet above the deck." Hardly had he given the order when Robert again fired. "Five feet to the right; aim a little to the left of the mast." Again a sheet of flame leaped from the six-pounder's mouth, again the thunderous reverberating report, dying out in far-away echoes, rolled from the gun. Except for Commander Brice's orders, the noise of the gun, and the now painfully loud throbbing of the engines, an intense stillness prevailed on the "Nevada's" deck. Thoroughly accustomed to navy ways, not a soul on board thought of questioning the captain's reason for injuring the graceful yacht, which had seen many pleasant sailing parties of midshipmen and their friends. All eyes were on the yacht; a few seconds after Robert's last shot the tall raking mast was seen suddenly to snap off close to the deck. Down went the mast over the side into the water, carrying with it every sail; and the yacht a minute before so full of life and spirit, so swiftly plunging through the water, now rolled helplessly, inert and lifeless. "A beautiful shot, Mr. Drake," cried Commander Brice, delightedly. "Mr. Joynes, as soon as we are near that yacht I'll slow down and stop and you lower the life-boat; get your armed crew aboard, and row over to the 'Robert Centre'! Take three men and a small boy from her--and let go the yacht's anchor; we'll let the 'Standish' tow her in after target practice." "What is it, Brice?" asked Commander Shaw, who had gone up on top of the pilot house. "Read this wireless message from the superintendent. It's evident that the kidnappers of Georgie Thompson stole the 'Robert Centre' and now are on board with the boy. By Jingo! Mr. Drake did some fine shooting. Between wireless telegraphy and good shooting villainy isn't profitable these days." Before long three silent, gloomy men and a small boy were brought on board. Two of the men were on the verge of collapse; new life had come to little Georgie, who wondered what it was all about. "Master-at-arms, put these men in a cell and place a guard over them. Where is the wireless operator? Oh--send this message immediately. Look here, my little man, is your name Georgie Thompson?" "Yes, sir. Where is my papa? Is he here? What were those awful noises, Mister? May I have a piece of bread and butter? I'm awfully hungry. Where is my papa?" "Steward, take Georgie to my cabin and keep him there, and get him something to eat, right away. Full speed, both engines, hard aport the helm. Now we'll run back by the buoys again. Take charge, Shaw, and fire as you will." Before long Blair's crew fired at its target, and in quick succession the remaining four targets were fired at, and then the "Nevada" ran up to the targets to count the shot holes in them and the "Standish" went up to repair them.