Again the rascal laughed loudly, while Chick and Patsy, on the deck above, screamed warnings to their chief. “Look out!” begged Patsy. “Better let him go than you tumble into the sea. Don’t take the chance!” “That’s so. Keep back!” added Chick. Paul Clayton and Douglas were both standing near the side of the ship, looking over. The former did not speak, while the chief of police contented himself with pointing his revolver at John Garrison Rayne, in the motor boat, and threatening to fill him so full of lead that he would weigh a ton. It was just now that Nick Carter took the chance which his assistants pleaded so hard with him not to attempt. He saw that there was a considerable width of open water between him and the motor boat. On the other hand, he was far enough up the ladder to be able to make a considerable broad jump. The thought of this scoundrel getting away, now that he was so nearly caught, maddened him. So, judging his distance carefully, he leaped out from the ladder with all the power he could summon. It was a risky performance. But luck reënforced judgment, and the detective came plump down into the waist of the little craft, immediately behind Rayne, who stood at the wheel, with his feet far down in the well. The motor boat rocked dangerously from the concussion when Nick Carter dropped. Before it could quite recover, it was caught in a cross sea that tested it a little more. Only the most skillful manipulation by Rayne prevented it capsizing. Nick gave him just time to get the boat on an even keel. Then he fell upon the rascal with both hands! A rough and tumble in a motor boat is necessarily full of risk. It is always likely to end in a ducking for both combatants. How Nick Carter and John Garrison Rayne escaped this unpleasantness is not to be explained. Only the fact can be stated. Perhaps it was because Nick Carter was so dexterous in putting on the handcuffs when the Apache was not looking. At all events, in less than two minutes, after a hard fight, John Garrison Rayne lay in the bottom of the dinky little craft, handcuffed, and with the detective sitting on him. The boat was steered back to the ship, and the others came aboard. “See if he has got the jewelry, Chick,” ordered Nick Carter. “I’ll hold him.” “Get back there, Chick!” commanded Patsy, grinning. “I’m the boy that can frisk him.” “Here’s two bags,” announced Chick, as he brought them forth from the rascal’s inside pockets. “Let Mr. Clayton look at them and see what’s inside.” The bags were given to Clayton, and while he went hastily through their contents and saw that they made up a large part of the Stephen Reed booty, including the sultan’s pearls, Patsy found the flat packing inside Rayne’s shirt. “That about makes the tally,” said Clayton. “How can I ever thank you, Mr. Carter?” he added, with something like a sob.