“Never mind the cipher. Go on and give the orders in English. And make it plain that we have guns aboard and will use them if it is necessary. If these rum runners want to listen in, we’ll give them something worth listening to.” Willie swung back to his instrument. He had had an instant response from each unit of the fleet. “All sub chasers,” he flashed out, “put to sea at top speed. Surround the rum fleet. Try to intercept any power boats still taking cargo or not yet within reach of shore. Use whatever force is necessary. Load your rifles and use them if need be. Take every possible chance to capture the runners.” From the sub chasers came flashing acknowledgments of the order, while instantly a mighty roar of powerful motors went up and the sub chasers shot forward through the dark waters of the harbor like the long, lean, nautical greyhounds they were. “Call the Collector’s boats,” said Mr. King, “and tell them to stay together. The sub chasers will scare all the rum runners away from the rum fleet, long before we could get near. Most of these fellows will make for the Jersey shore. We haven’t the remotest chance of intercepting them. Even the sub chasers couldn’t catch many of them. But some of them will try to make a get-away by heading directly for the harbor here. They’ll wait until the sub chasers are through the Narrows and then make a dash from beyond the three-mile limit. Our part of the job will be to intercept them. We’ll go through the Narrows and cruise back and forth across the harbor entrance. It will be a mighty clever boatman that can get by us unseen.” Once more Willie threw over his switch and sent a call flashing through the air. “Keep pace with the _Surveyor_,” he called, when he had gotten responses from the other craft. “Proceed through the Narrows, and take up patrol stations across harbor entrance. Don’t let anything get by you. If necessary, shoot. If they fire back, shoot to kill.” CHAPTER XVIII THE PURSUIT IN THE DARK Already dusk was at hand. Though it was about the hour for the sun to set, no sign of that glowing orb was visible in the sky. Dark clouds obscured the heavens. Columns of smoke were pouring skyward from hundreds of tall stacks along the shores of the Bay. And this smoke, driven down again by the heavy atmosphere, added to the general murkiness. A uniform dull, dark, gray blanket of cloud hung low over the harbor. Beneath, the waters of the Bay reflected this dull, dark gray. The steel-colored hulls of the sub chasers were hardly distinguishable, even at a few hundred yards, from the heaving gray waves. The air was raw with the dampness of an approaching storm. The wind soughed ominously. Somewhere out on the great ocean, a swirling storm was sweeping landward. Night was close at hand. When darkness came, it would be as the darkness of Egypt—dense, impenetrable, almost tangible. It was indeed a good night for rum runners.