Unable to realise the meaning of the skipper's order Brandon clambered on to the foredeck. Steadying himself by the forestay with one hand he lifted the anchor, already stocked, with the other. Then he waited, hanging on like grim death as the _Frolic_ pitched and plunged in the bow-wave of the steamer. Putting the helm hard down Old Negus threw the _Frolic_ into the wind. Relieved of the drag of the trawl she answered her helm so readily that she cut the drifter's track close under the latter's counter. "Let go!" yelled Old Negus. Splash went the anchor. Fathom after fathom of chain ran out until Brandon got the word to belay. A succession of jerks announced that the anchor was obtaining a series of temporary and insecure holds. Then Brandon grasped the situation. _The anchor was ripping the drifter's nets._ "Come aft!" shouted Old Negus. "There'll be a tur'ble jerk when the hook brings up agen her trawl-beam." "The fat's in the fire with a vengeance this time," thought Frank, as he leapt into the well. "I wonder what will happen now?" He was not left long in doubt. Although the drifter was making a bare three knots owing to the drag of a fifty feet beam and a ton or more of nets, the sudden strain as the _Frolic's_ anchor jammed against the trawl-beam well-nigh capsized Brandon. Round swung the _Frolic_, towed by the craft that had so deliberately cut away Old Negus's gear. "Belgian or Frenchie, that's what she be," declared the old fisherman. "Poachin' inside the three-mile limit. Now us knows why there bain't much fish on the Silverknoll Bank." "What are we going to do now?" asked Brandon rather anxiously. "Do?" repeated Old Negus. "Jus' hang on till daylight, if needs must. If they cut their trawl adrift then we'll collar it. Fair exchange it'll be. If not, they can tow us till they're fair fed up. Wish I could see 'er name." "I've a torch in my haversack," announced Brandon. "Thought it might come in handy." By this time the crew of the drifter had made the disconcerting discovery that the insignificant English fishing boat whose nets they had wantonly cut was now playing havoc with their gear. A volley of abuse was directed upon the _Frolic_, together with a command to "Cut ze hawsair or ve sink you." The beam of Brandon's torch played upon the drifter. On her counter, showing up distinctly in the bright light, were the words, "_Marie-Celeste_, Ostende." Over the taffrail were half a dozen men gesticulating and shouting. "Signal ashore," said Old Negus. "P'raps coastguards over agin Broken Point'll spot it." Brandon needed no second bidding. Rapidly he Morsed a message stating the plight of the _Frolic_, and requesting assistance. The Belgians broke into another and more vigorous howl of anger at seeing the dots and dashes. Old Negus laughed as light-heartedly as a boy.