What these secret orders were, the commander of the battleship had not the remotest idea; nor was he aware whose photograph was inside the envelope. It was felt by his superiors that there was no need for him to know these things until the time to act arrived. He did know, however, that the contents of the envelope had been placed there by the President of the United States himself. Captain Cortrell was not naturally a curious man. It was largely because the bump of inquisitiveness was missing from his cranium that he had been selected for this mysterious mission; but when he had told his visitor that he was glad to meet him, he had never in his life spoken more earnestly, for his fingers were just itching to open that envelope. He had been wondering greatly, too, what manner of chap this young man named Hawley must be, that the head of the nation was willing to go to so much trouble on his account. It was the first time in his experience that he had heard of a United States battleship being dispatched under sealed orders to foreign waters to aid a newspaper photographer in his work. He had looked forward with eagerness to the time when the president’s photographic envoy should choose to put in an appearance. For his instructions did not permit him to seek the latter out. He must wait until he came aboard of his own initiative. Evidently it had been taken for granted at the White House that the Camera Chap would come to the battleship without an invitation being extended to him. The logical mind responsible for these arrangements had foreseen that in the event of his landing the photographic evidence of Portiforo’s rascality, it would naturally occur to him to seek refuge immediately in the safest place for him within a thousand miles of San Cristobal--the deck of a ship of war flying the Stars and Stripes. CHAPTER XXIV. THE SNAPSHOT. The night which Hawley and Virginia had selected for their assault upon El Torro proved an ideal one for their purpose; for the moon was obscured most of the time by a steady procession of dark clouds which made the waters of the harbor as black as ink, save for an occasional phosphorescent streak on the surface of the wavelets, the sight of which made the girl shudder. “I’m afraid there are many sharks in the bay to-night,” she whispered fearfully to the Camera Chap, as he cast loose the painter of the launch, and took the oars--they had decided to row at the start, instead of using the motor, for fear that the noise of the latter might attract attention on shore. “I guess it’s only your imagination which makes you think that, Miss Throgmorton,” Hawley responded cheerfully. “Of course,” he added solicitously, “if you’re really alarmed, we’ll turn back this minute; but there’s no danger so far as the sharks are concerned. They won’t come near the boat.”