How that afternoon passed the boys could never tell. If ever hours were leaden-footed, those were. The consul’s launch came off during the afternoon, but immediately returned. During the time the diplomat had been on board, however, the plan had been explained to him, and he had enthusiastically placed his craft at the disposal of the _Beale’s_ commander. It grew toward dusk at last, however, and the boys ceased their impatient pacing of their cramped quarters. As for Stanley, he was as cool as the proverbial cucumber. Like several of the other men, he had borrowed a fish-line and was bobbing for red snappers most of the afternoon. Quite a number of lines were cast overboard from the _Beale_, and, though it cannot be said that much fish was caught, a wonderful amount of patience was displayed, so a good end was served after all. The sun was disappearing behind the high mountains, beyond which a part of the insurgent forces were supposedly encamped, when Ned, who was standing forward gazing at the sunset, gave an exclamation. “There’s a picture!” he said. Tacking rapidly toward them across the glowing water was a small fishing craft. She moved swiftly as the evening breeze filled her single leg-o’-mutton sail. “She’s coming out to us,” cried Herc suddenly. Indeed, it looked like it, and presently it was seen that Herc was right. The little craft drew almost alongside the grim-looking destroyer before the figure at her helm hauled his sheet and put her about. As she shot away on the other tack there was a sudden splash from the _Beale’s_ side, and a man went floundering into the water. “Man overboard!” went up a cry, but it was instantly stilled, as it was seen that whoever it was in the water he was in no need of assistance. He could swim like a fish. A few strokes brought him once more to the side of the _Beale_, and he was helped up. He stood laughing and shaking himself on the deck a minute later, and the boys, who were in the crowd that gathered about him, heard the word passed among the crew. “It’s Jim Prentice, one of the engineer’s bunch.” “How’d it happen, Jim?” asked somebody. “Dunno. I was fishing and watching that little boat when all of a sudden I slipped,” said the man readily. “Recognize that chap?” asked Ned in a whisper, of Herc. “Yes, it’s the fellow that gave us such a sizing up the other day.” “That’s it. Take a little stroll this way, I’ve something to tell you.” Ned seized the mystified Herc’s arm and led him away from the group clustered about Prentice, laughing and condoling with him. “What do you suppose that fellow went overboard for?” asked Ned mysteriously, as soon as they were out of earshot of the men. “That’s a bright question,--because he couldn’t help it, I suppose.” “Not he. He went over for a purpose.” “For a purpose?” echoed Herc, looking sharply at Ned. “That’s what I said.” “Oh, for a swim, I suppose you mean--an unofficial swim.”