Up and up they crept, without apparently being perceived, till they were within a boat’s length. Then a man was seen to leap upward on the stern of the other launch and gaze back. He gave a shout of surprise as he saw the other boat creeping up to intercept them. Already the naval launch had cut the revolutionary agents off from their expected landing place. “Pray Heaven we don’t hit a rock, and we’ve got them,” breathed Stanley. Bang! There was a flash of fire from the leading launch, and a bullet whistled past the heads of the pursuers. “Now, then, wade in!” cried the midshipman excitedly. Hardly five feet separated the launches now and the gap was rapidly closing. There was a grating sound, as the consul’s launch ran alongside the other. Before any one could stop him Stanley, with a wrench in his hand, jumped on board the gun-runner. Crash! He brought the wrench down with all his force on the spark plug of the other boat’s motor. With a groan and a sputter, she lay helpless as the explosions of her motor ceased. “By Jove, we’re in for it now!” he heard Midshipman Stark exclaim, as two more bullets ploughed under the awning of their craft. But totally taken by surprise, the figure which had fired the first shot from the leading launch took to the water with a splash. A second later another disturbance of the water announced that his companion had followed his example. This left only three frightened natives on board, who began crying out at the top of their voices for mercy. “Shut up, or we’ll blow your heads off,” roared Stark, in a fierce voice, and, although they did not understand a word he said, the nature of his tones was quite sufficient to warn the peons that silence would be golden. They therefore subsided in the stern of the boat. Stanley came leaping back on board the naval launch. “We’ll have to tow her, sir,” he announced. “And quickly, too,” rejoined the other in a low voice. “Those fellows ashore will wake up to what’s happened in a moment.” “Thank goodness all those boxes are on board,” grinned Stanley, as he resumed the wheel and the launch, with her cumbersome tow alongside, started up. “I guess that’s spiked the revolutionaries’ guns for a while!” exultingly exclaimed Stark. “Those guns would be worth a few hundred rifles to them if they had them.” There had been no time to rig a hawser, and the disabled launch floated alongside the consul’s craft by a hastily fastened line, made fast about her forward samson-post. “Come on, Stanley, head around!” exclaimed the middy. “We don’t want to be recognized in this thing.” But Stanley at the wheel turned a white face toward his officer. “This tide’s pulling us right down on the point, sir.” “Great Scott! and it’s alive with troops, too, I’ll bet the admiral’s Sunday hat. Do your best, man.” Stanley gritted his teeth and set the wheel hard over, but the launch still drifted. “Look here, sir!” exclaimed Ned suddenly, “the tiller line’s broken!”