Dave ordered the prisoner forward, and the trio pushed off again in the dory. They found Tempest, as Jim had left him, still master of the situation. “Say good-by to Mr. Flagg, Dave,” Tempest observed quizzically. “He is just about to take a sea voyage for his health, and you may not see him again.” “Sorry he can’t stop,” said the boy, dryly. “Why, we were just beginning to like him! Say, Tempest, I don’t want to interfere with the program, but the sooner I get some grub, the sooner I shall begin to forgive him.” “Righto. A pleasant journey, Flagg. And let it be clearly understood that if we see you hanging around here again, I’ll shoot in dead earnest. Savvy?” Flagg had been lying on his back, apparently accepting the situation now as one in which he was hopelessly beaten. Neither his cunning nor his tenacity, however, had deserted him. As a last desperate resort he made a sudden grab to wrest the revolver from Tempest’s hands, knowing that if the move succeeded he would turn the tables again. His wrist was powerful, but fortunately the other man was half expecting some such trick. He bent the weapon down, involuntarily tightening his pressure on the trigger as he did so. There was a deafening explosion, and a bullet bored its way through the bottom of the bunk, missing Flagg by the breadth of a finger. Flagg sank back limply. “I give in,” he murmured. “Let me get out of this.” “You’d better,” said Tempest. “If that had killed you, it would have been your own fault. Jim, Dave, hop into that dory. Take the rifle with you. Now, Flagg, you’re to make a start as soon as we get off this boat, see? If you don’t, I shall begin boring holes in it.” But Mr. Flagg was thoroughly subdued, and the sails of the _Firefly_ began to flutter without the slightest delay. “I don’t think he will come back, somehow,” Tempest commented as the craft passed through the channel and into the open sea. “All the same, we must keep our eyes skinned. But for the love of Mike, let’s get something to eat.” Nothing had been disturbed in the _Nautilus_. Even Dave’s cherished binoculars were exactly where he had left them. In a few minutes the trio were ravenously devouring a meal and regaling themselves with steaming cups of coffee, after which they took turn and turn about in keeping watch until dawn. As soon as it was light, Dave and Tempest paid their first long-deferred visit to the _Hatteras_, and the boy’s face fell as he scrambled onto the ruins of the bark. The ravages of time had not left much of her framework. Her hull was more or less intact, being embedded deeply in sand which had silted around her. In places her deck had caved in, and most of the woodwork had either been rotted or washed away. Flagg had evidently been breaking away timbers in the neighborhood of the poop, endeavoring to reveal any locker which might contain the platinum, but the task did not seem to have been a very promising one. Tempest scratched his head and pulled a wry face.