"I say," whispered Bob, "what a nuisance it's getting, you can't say a word on board without somebody hearing. Hullo! what's the matter with your head?" "Old Staples was in a passion because you were so long, and hit me over the head with his speaking trumpet." "Get out--and we weren't so long as you were first time. Russell said so. What was it? He wouldn't dare to hit you." "But he did; swung round just when I was behind him." "Serve you right for being behind him." "What?" cried Mark, furiously. "No, no, I mean serve him right for being before you." "Less talking, young gentlemen," cried the officer of whom they were speaking, and he looked round at them so sternly that they separated, each hurrying to his post, and, glass in hand, watching the distant schooner. "Look here, Mr Russell," said the captain, walking up to that officer, as, once more, they began to near the white-sailed vessel gliding along in the brilliant moonlight. "If that scoundrel tries his cowardly scheme again, I shall drop you to pick up the poor wretch, and keep on as hard as we can, or we shall lose her. Save the poor fellow, and then pull steadily after us. I think I can overhaul her in less than half-an-hour, and then I shall heave to, and wait for you to come aboard." The second lieutenant saluted, and the captain went forward to watch the schooner. "Are you coming with me this time, Vandean?" said the lieutenant. "Yes, I hope so, sir," said the lad. "Hope, eh? Humph. You don't know what you are talking about, my lad." "Please don't speak," said Mark, excitedly. "I've got it just right now. Look sir, look, there's a regular fight going on aboard. They're getting ready to pitch another man overboard." The lieutenant raised the glass to his eyes, and immediately gave orders to the crew to stand ready. Then, following the midshipman's example, he fixed his glass upon the schooner, and watched her moonlit deck with its busy dark figures, in the full expectation of seeing another heavy splash. But nothing more disturbed the surface of the water but the rush of the swift schooner, in whose wake lay what looked like an arrow-head of foam, as the lines diverged from each side of her sharp prow; and as they neared her the captain grew excited. "She's going to heave to," he cried. Just then a shot went skipping along the water, making the sea flash into silver at every dip, and sped right on in front of the schooner's bows, a messenger sufficiently faithful to warn the Yankee skipper of what would be the fate of his vessel if he did not strike his colours, for the man who aimed that shot could as easily have hulled the swift craft. At the captain's words every eye was directed to the American flag which the skipper was disgracing, but it remained in its place as both vessels sped on, and a couple more shots were fired and sent through the main and foresails, which showed, with the aid of the glasses, a couple of black spots. That was all.