"Orderly," ordered Rexdale, beckoning to a marine on duty, "find one of the cabin stewards and send him to the bridge at once." Hardly a minute elapsed before Oto glided gracefully up the ladder and saluted. "Take these glasses and see if you can make out that fellow's ensign," said Rexdale. Oto lifted the binocular to his slanting eyes and picking up the approaching steamer gave it a swift glance. A moment sufficed. Then he returned the glasses to the commander, his face alight. "Japanese, sir," he said simply. "That the flag of Japanese navy." Dobson so far forgot his dignity as to slap his thigh. "That's so!" he exclaimed. "I remember it well enough now. What on earth can a Jap torpedo destroyer want in these waters?" "We shall soon find out--where's that boy? Gone already? Of course it excites him to see a part of his own navy so near. Stand by for signals, Mr. Dobson. Have your man ready, and get out your book." Dave's eyes were again scrutinising the approaching vessel as he gave the orders. When the stranger was within about half a mile she rounded to a course parallel with that of the _Osprey_, showing her long, vicious hull, black and low in the water; and slowed down to keep from running away from the American ship. Presently a line of small flags fluttered up to her masthead. Dobson examined them closely through the glass, then turned to his signal-book. "One--three--seven--five--here she is--the _Kiku_--that's Jap for Chrysanthemum, isn't it? Run up the answering pennant, signalman. Then haul it down and set our number." The introduction having thus been politely performed, the _Kiku_, first answering the _Osprey's_ number, hoisted another line of flags. "H'm, they have our signals pat," muttered Dobson, turning the leaves of his book. "Here it is, Captain. 'Wish to communicate. Have message for--' for whom I wonder? Answer, signalman. There goes the second half of the signal: 'man on board your ship.' Well, that's cool! What shall we reply, sir?" "Answer: 'Send boat with message--hurry,'" said Dave, frowning. "I don't like to stop, but the message may be important. I suppose it's for me, only the Japanese don't know enough to say so. Slow down, quartermaster." "Slow, sir." And the indicator swung to that mark. "Half speed." "Half speed, sir." "Now, full stop." "Full stop, sir," and the engines of the _Osprey_ were still. The _Kiku_ had taken similar measures, and changing her course, approached to within a hundred rods. Down came her starboard quarter-boat, with beautiful precision. The oars fell together as the boat left the ship's side, and started toward the _Osprey_. A ladder was thrown over, but the Japanese stopped abruptly, backing water when two or three boats' lengths distant, and turning, rowed a slow stroke to keep abreast the gangway of the gunboat, which had not lost her way. The officer in charge rose to his feet and raised his cap courteously.