Jack vouchsafed no reply. But the next instant he felt like giving a shout of joy. The backward revolving propeller of the _Vagrant_ was “biting” the water. The motor craft’s forward impulse was checked. She hesitated, stopped, and slowly her bow began to swing. It was not a second too soon. As the _Vagrant_ swung off, the other craft tore by at a vicious speed, and Jack saw that her bow was shaped like a man-of-war’s “ram.” So closely did she race across the _Vagrant’s_ bow that he could see dim figures on her bridge, and could catch a torrent of maledictions, as those in command of the strange vessel saw that their evident purpose had been frustrated. At the pace she was going. Jack realized that it would be some moments before she could be put on another tack for a fresh onslaught. “Ahead! Come ahead!” he shouted down the tube, and the propeller of the _Vagrant_ began to churn in a forward direction once more. The lads’ craft forged forward, crossing the troubled wake of the vindictive stranger. “Glory be!” breathed old Jupe fervently; “ah could heah de angels’ harps dat time, Marse Jack.” “I don’t know that I wasn’t in the same mental condition myself,” rejoined Jack, with a nervous laugh. His hands shook and his heart beat thickly. The escape had been narrow enough to unnerve older and more experienced persons than this boyish captain. “Ahoy!” came a sudden voice out of the darkness ahead, “what craft’s that?” “The _Vagrant_!” hailed back Jack, with a glad ring in his tones; “is that the _Sky King_?” “Aye! aye! Thank heaven, you’ve come—in time,” was the answering hail from the yacht. A moment later, against the stars. Jack could trace the spidery outlines of the larger vessel’s spars and wireless aerials and rigging. “This is Jack Chadwick,” he shouted, not giving a thought to the stranger craft now, but in a torment of anxiety to know what it all portended, “is my father on board?” There was a pause. Across the water there came a confused murmur of voices, but what they said was not audible. “_Sea King_, ahoy!” hailed Jack impatiently, “is my father on board and well?” “Your father is well, we hope, but he’s not on board,” came back the reply in somewhat hesitating tones. “Not on board!” stammered Jack, feeling for an instant as if he had been struck a heavy blow, “then where is he?” “Come alongside. Master Jack,” was the response, “there’s a lot to be told.” The black hulk of the _Sea King_ was plainly visible now, and Jack, steering carefully, with one hand on the engine-room signaling device, skillfully maneuvered the _Vagrant_ alongside of the bigger craft. As he did so an accommodation ladder was lowered, and several heads appeared along the yacht’s rail. “Stop her,” chimed the signal.