Dinner was announced, but for once there's no grand rush below. Mr. Ellins orders a hand-out meal to be passed around, and we fills up on sandwiches while keepin' watch on that black smudge, which is creepin' closer and closer. Don't take long for it to get dark down in this part of the country after the sun is doused, but the stars shine mighty bright. On the water, too, it seems so much lighter. Then the _Petrel_ turns on a couple of search-lights. Course, we was 'way out of range, but somehow it seemed like them swingin' streaks of light was goin' to reach out and pick us up any minute. For an hour or so we watched 'em feelin' for us, gettin' a bit nearer, reachin' and swingin', with the _Agnes_ strainin' herself to slip away, but losin' a little of her lead every minute. Must have been near ten o'clock when Rupert announces cheerful: "By George! She's falling behind. Those searchlights are getting dimmer." "I believe you're right," says Old Hickory. Half an hour more and there was no doubt about it. "Humph!" says Auntie. "I was sure we could do it." And Mr. Ellins is so tickled that he orders up a couple of bottles of his best fizz, so all hands can drink to the U. S. Navy. "Long may it wave," says J. Dudley Simms, "and may it always stick to its new motto--Safety First." He got quite a hand on that, and then everybody turned in happy. As I went to sleep the _Agnes_ was still joggin' along at her best gait, and it was comfortin' to know that our wrathy naval friends had been left hopelessly behind. I expect I must have been poundin' my ear real industrious for five or six hours when I hears this distant _boom_, and comes up in my berth as sudden as if someone had pulled the string. Sunshine was streamin' in through the porthole, and I was just wonderin' if I'd slept right through the breakfast gong when _boom_! it came again. There's a rush of feet on deck, some panicky remarks from the man up in the bow, a quick clangin' of the engine-room bells, and then I feels the propellers reversed. "Good night!" says I. "Pinched on the high seas!" I didn't waste much time except to throw on a few clothes; but, at that, I finds Auntie scrabblin' out ahead of me and Captain Killam already on deck. She's a picturesque old girl, Auntie, in a lavender and white kimono and a boudoir cap to match; and Rupert, in blue trousers and a pajama top, hardly looks like a triple-plated hero. "Nabbed!" gasps Rupert, starin' over the rail, at a gray gunboat that's just roundin' in towards us. It's the _Petrel_, sure enough. "The idea!" says Auntie. "They were shooting at us, too, weren't they? Of all things!" Then up pads Old Hickory in a low-necked silk dressin'-gown, with his gray hair all rumpled and a heavy crop of white stubble on his solid set jaws. "Huh!" says he, takin' a glance at the _Petrel_.