“We’ll be in the steamboat track by sun‐up, and there’ll be no wind then,” he said. “Considering that each time you see a trail of smoke you may have to pull two or three miles, it would be kind of sensible to sleep when you can.” Appleby lay down on the wet floorings with an old sail over him, and for a time felt the swift swing of the little craft, and heard the gurgling swirl of brine, for the breeze she sped before was now breaking the heave into splashing seas. Then he became oblivious to everything save when a little shower of spray blew into his face. At last he fancied that Harper was trying to stir him with his foot, and blinked at him vacantly, until Harper kicked him harder. “Get up!” he said. There was a tone in his voice which roused Appleby suddenly, and standing up he stared about him. “Another gunboat?” he said. “Look!” said Harper, pointing with his hand. “It can’t do much good, but you may as well get the sail off her.” Appleby swung round, and saw that the moon was dim and low, though a faint light still shone down upon the white‐flecked sea. Then he made out a black smear that moved across it amidst a turmoil of foam and a haze of smoke. It grew larger while he watched it, and there was a red streak of flame from one of the two funnels that took shape rapidly, but he could see no masts or hull, and the speed with which the smoke haze was coming on appeared incredible. Then he sprang forward, and lowered the latine into the boat. “A big torpedo boat, or a destroyer,” said Harper. “She’ll pass ’bout quarter of a mile off, and we’re going to make nothing by running away from her. It’s just a question whether they see us or not.” The dim shape had grown clearer while he spoke, and a strip of something black appeared between the smoke cloud and the piled‐up froth. Then a slender whip of mast stood out against the sky, and from the crown of the after funnel there poured another gush of flame. The craft was almost level with them now, but it was evident that in another minute or two she would have passed and be fading again, and Appleby felt his heart throb painfully as he watched her. Then the white wash about her seemed to swirl higher, funnels and mast slanted sharply, and the half‐ seen hull shortened. Appleby looked at Harper, who made a little gesture of resignation. “Yes,” he said. “They’ve seen us. She’s coming round.” A moment later a whistle rang out, and while Appleby sat down grim in face the white wave that frothed about the stranger’s hull grew less noticeable. The smoke cloud also sank a little, and in a minute or two more a strip of lean black hull slid smoothly past them. Then he gasped as a voice came down across the waters. “Boat ahoy? Get your oars out, and pull up alongside,” it said.