“Well, come on; we’d better hurry aft. The ensign may want us,” reminded Ned, and hastily the two boys made their way sternward along the bleached decks. It was well they had hastened, for just as they reached the break in the deck marking the rise of the old-fashioned stern-cabin, they heard a voice hailing them. The tones floated up from below, through the broken glass panel of the cabin skylight. “Herc, Strong and Taylor, come below here.” “Ay, ay, sir,” cried Ned with alacrity. Followed by Herc, he bounded up the few steps to the raised deck above the cabin, and dived down the companionway. They found the officer standing at the cabin table, which a shaft of sunlight, falling through the broken skylight, illuminated brightly. He was examining the contents of a stout wooden box, brass bound and about a foot square, which had evidently once contained the ship’s papers. The documents lay littered about the table, opened, as the officer had been examining them. The boys waited for Ensign Conkling to speak. “You had better put those papers back in the box, and I’ll take it aboard with me,” he said. “Yes, sir----,” began Ned. He was just about to hand over the papers he found in the forward deck-house when there came a sudden sharp hail from outside. “Aboard the _Donna Mercedes_!” “Ay, ay!” shouted the ensign, who had recognized Stanley’s voice, “what is it?” “A squall coming up from the southeast, sir!” came the reply. “Come on, there, look lively, boys,” ordered the officer, and in the hurry of packing the documents back in the square box Ned, for the moment, quite forgot all about what he deemed were the unimportant papers in his blouse. The light that had flooded the cabin table was suddenly blotted out before they finished. The officer, having rummaged the cabin thoroughly without finding anything more of interest, ordered a quick return to the boat. They gained it just as the tropical squall swept down on them. “Shove off, quick!” came the command, as a rolling wall of white water rushed toward them. Just in time the brown arms shoved off the ship’s boat. The next instant she was half buried in a flying smother of white spray, as the squall, in all its fury, struck them. “Toot! toot! toot!” It was the siren of the _Beale_ blowing a recall. “About time,” muttered Ensign Conkling grimly, as the men rowed with all their might to keep from being dashed against the hulk. “If we’d been a few minutes later we’d have lost the boat.”