“Of our former navy, would have been a better way to put it,” thought Ned, carefully flicking an imaginary spot off his uniform to hide a smile. The reader has, of course, not forgotten that the Americans, when they made their dramatic entry on board the destroyer, were equipped with the uniforms of the officers of the craft, which they still wore. The golden stars--the number of which denoted rank--had, however, been ripped off. In all essentials the garments bore a close resemblance to our own naval uniform. But it was easy to see, despite the fact that Midshipman Stark and the rest were palpably Americans, that the visitors were suspicious and uneasy. “I say, gentlemen,” went on the other, “that the resemblance is extraordinary. Of course, your boat has four funnels, while ours had but three.” “Good thing he didn’t take a notion to poke a finger into that fourth funnel,” thought Ned. “The paint is still wet, and that canvas is not really stretched tight enough.” Suddenly one of the young officers from the _Calvo_, who had been looking about him, gave a sharp exclamation. “Why, here is a cushion embroidered with the name of the _General Barrill_!” he cried in a puzzled voice, “and----” The sharp voice of his superior cut in. “There is some trick here. I call upon you to explain it at once, or----” He halted in amazement. Four revolvers were covering himself and his officers, and from a door opening into a side stateroom suddenly stepped Captain Gomez himself. There was a look of mild triumph on his features as he emerged from the place of concealment, in which he had been posted to watch the progress of events. “Captain Gomez!” gasped out the commander of the _Calvo_, for such was the rank of the other. “What does this mean, sir?” “Are you a prisoner of these Americans?” gasped out another officer. “No, gentlemen, but you are my prisoners,” replied the Costavezan captain calmly. “I advise you to submit to the fortunes of war with a good grace.” “Trapped!” burst out the other officer. He gazed in front of him despairingly. He was a brave man in his way. So were his officers. But the bravest men are not the most reckless, and he saw, by the grim look in his captor’s eyes, that a dash for the stairway between themselves and the deck would have been, under the circumstances, suicidal. Suddenly a loud cheer disturbed the tense silence. It came from above. “Hurray!” “What was that?” gasped the insurgent captain. “I rather think it was your boat going to the bottom. We thought it best to scuttle her,” rejoined Captain Gomez, with the same deadly calm. “You gentlemen will, therefore, have to be our guests for a time. I trust you will make yourselves at home. One thing, before we leave you to your own devices, however, I must request your weapons.” There was no help for it, and with a very bad grace the captives unbuckled their swords and gave up their service revolvers.