Willie could scarcely restrain himself for joy. So far he had had no end of good luck in being allowed to take a hand in operations against smugglers, but this was the greatest good fortune yet. To have a part in actually running down smugglers on the seas was a piece of luck too good to be true. Willie could hardly believe his ears. He wanted to give a war whoop, but somehow he restrained himself, and answered quietly, “I’m ready now.” But his heart was beating wildly with excitement. “Get your overcoat and cap and the heaviest wraps you can find,” said Mr. King. “It’s already late in the day. It will be dark long before we can get near that rum fleet. And you’ll freeze to death if you aren’t warmly clothed.” In a second everything was astir in the office. All the secret agents in the building were ordered aboard the patrol fleet. Orders were issued to clerks and stenographers. Revolvers were inspected and loaded. Fresh ammunition was tucked into coat pockets. Caps, gloves, overcoats, and outer footwear were produced and pulled on. And in a very few minutes the little party was hurrying across Battery Park to board the _Surveyor_. Willie hustled along beside his friend Easterly. But the pace was too rapid to permit conversation. In fact, Willie fairly had to run to keep pace with his longer legged companions. The booze forces had stolen a march on the enforcers of the law and there was not a second to lose. The _Surveyor_ was already at the boat landing. A member of the crew stood on the wharf, looking for the party. The Special Agent leaped aboard, followed by his little company. The sailor cast off the line that held the _Surveyor_, the engine began to roar, and the little craft drew quickly away from the landing. Not many hundred yards offshore the sub chasers and the other craft of the little fleet were gathered. Already customs agents had boarded them and they were idling on the tide, like restive horses champing their bits, eager to be off. The _Surveyor_ headed directly for this flotilla. “I suppose those sub chasers are the fastest units of our fleet,” said Mr. King to the captain of the _Surveyor_. “Much the fastest, sir,” said that officer. “And the Collector’s boats are about of one speed, I suppose.” “Just about. We can run together very nicely, sir.” The Special Agent turned to Willie. “Tell those sub chasers to make all speed possible,” he said, “surround the rum fleet, and try to cut off any small boats they can. Tell them they can go the limit if it is necessary. Be sure they have rifles and ammunition.” Willie entered the little cabin and sat down at the wireless instrument. He strapped on his headpiece, threw over his switch, and sent the fleet call flashing abroad. But before he followed with a single order, he called out to Mr. King: “What about the cipher? I don’t know it, though I know you use one.”