It happened that Bruce Browning had heard the commotion on deck, and, strange to relate, it had aroused him so that he was coming up. Bruce had just started to go above when Hans came flying through the air like a huge toad, struck him full and fair, and both went down in a heap on the cabin floor. "Dot seddles id!" yelled the frightened Dutch lad. "Der yocht vos sunkin' und I vos a goner!" "You blundering Dutch chump!" gasped Bruce, when he could catch his breath. "What is the matter?" "Didn't you toldt me der yocht vos sunkin'?" shrieked Hans. "Id haf run ofer a pig sdeampoat! Uf you kept myseluf drownting from I vill haf to got oudt und valk ashore!" Browning managed to get himself together and rise to his feet. Then he hurried up the companion way and reached the deck just in time to see the huge white hull of a steamboat looming above the yacht. But Merriwell's prompt action and steady nerve had saved the _White Wings_, for the steamer, with motionless paddlewheels, was slipping past, the yacht having cut square across her course. It was a close shave, and a few white faces looked over the forward starboard rail of the huge steamer. "If you chaps knew your business you would be at anchor instead of cruising round in this fog," called a hoarse voice from the steamer. "If you knew your business you would blow your fog whistle while running through a fog bank," returned Frank Merriwell, promptly. "That's the stuff, Merry!" grated Hodge, whose face was still pale. "How do you suppose they happened to do such a thing?" "Probably that bank of fog is narrow, and they only ran into it a few minutes ago. Perhaps they did not strike heavy fog till just before they broke through and came into view." "Well, it was a piece of reprehensible carelessness, and it's lucky the _White Wings_ was not cut in two." As the huge steamer slipped past, the boys saw not many persons were astir on her. She had made an all-night run from Boston, and the passengers were still sleeping in their staterooms, with a few exceptions. Near the stern of the steamer were two persons in mackintoshes. They seemed to regard the yacht with interest, not to say excitement, and their movements attracted the attention of the boys. One of the passengers clutched the other by the arm and pointed out the _White Wings_, then both leaned over the rail. Jack Diamond leaped to Merriwell's side, grasped Merry by the shoulder, and cried in his ear: "Look, Merriwell--look!" "Where?" "On the steamer there! The two fellows astern!" "I see them." "Know them?" "By Jove! I believe I do!" "One of them is----" "Wat Snell!" "Sure! And the other is----" "The chap who claimed this yacht--Parker Flynn!" "Exactly." "Great Scott! What are they doing on that boat?" "Following us!" "Perhaps they are." "Perhaps! There is no perhaps about it! Of course they are!" "But Snell and Flynn together--how does that happen?"