"I'll tell you what," said the other, "we'll go across to one of the transport-steamers; or, better still, we'll go to the captain of the _Marietta_--we'll be sure to get something decent to eat there." "Right you are!" said Spencer, peering down over the edge of the railing. "Our cutter is down there," he added. At the foot of the light-house lay a small, white cutter with its brass appointments glittering in the sunlight. Her crew, consisting of three men, had crept into the little cabin, while the black stoker was resting on a bench near the boiler. "Ho, Dodge!" shouted Spencer, "get up steam. We're going over to the transport-ships in ten minutes." The firemen threw several shovels of coal into the furnace, whereupon a cloud of smoke poured out of the funnel straight up along the light-house. Lieutenant Wood telephoned over to Corpus Christi that the transports with the troops on board had been sighted and that they would probably arrive in the roads in about two hours. "We're going over to one of the transport-ships meanwhile," he added, "and will await the arrival of the squadron out there." While Lieutenant Spencer was climbing down the narrow staircase, Lieutenant Wood once more examined the horizon and suddenly started. The thunder of a shot boomed across the water. Boom--came the sound of another one! The lieutenant clapped his marine-glasses to his eyes. Yes, there were two _Dreadnoughts_ out there, evidently saluting. But why at such a distance? "Gibson," he called down the staircase. "Come on, Ben!" came the impatient answer from below. "I can't, I wish you'd come up again for a minute, I'm sure something's wrong!" The gun-shots were booming loudly across the water as Lieutenant Spencer reached the gallery, covered with perspiration. "I suppose they're saluting," exclaimed Spencer somewhat uncertainly. Ben Wood said nothing, but with a quick jerk turned the telescope to the right and began examining the transport-ships. "Heavens," he shouted, "they mean business. I can see shells splashing into the water in front of the _Olympia_--no, there in the middle--away back there, too-- One of the transports listed. What can it mean? Can they be Japanese?" Again the roar of guns rolled across the quiet waters. "Now the _Olympia_ is beginning to shoot," cried Ben Wood. "Oh, that shot struck the turret. Great, that must have done some good work! But what in Heaven's name are we going to do?" Lieutenant Spencer answered by pushing the light-house keeper, who was in abject fear, aside, and rushing to the telephone. Trembling with excitement, he stamped his foot and swore loudly when no notice was taken of his ring. "All asleep over there as usual! Ah, at last!" "Halloo! what's up?" "This is the light-house. Notify the commander at Corpus Christi at once that the Japanese are in the roads and are attacking the transports."