The rescued one was sitting up on deck, in a steamer chair, having recovered consciousness, due to the rough and ready treatment of the sailors. Dick saw an elderly man, with a little bunch of white whiskers on his chin. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Grit, at his master's heels, growled ominously. The hair on his back stood up, as it only did when he saw some one whom he hated, and who disliked him. "Quiet, Grit!" said Dick, in a low voice. At the sound of the lad's words the man, who was covered with a blanket, arose unsteadily to his feet. Dick could scarcely believe his eyes. "Ah--er--is it you, Nephew Richard?" asked the rescued one, slowly. "Uncle--Ezra--Larabee!" gasped the young millionaire. "Is it possibly you?" "What's left of me--yes--Nephew Richard. Oh, I've had a fearful time--I almost drowned, and those terrible men took all my money. Oh, it was awful! Never--never again will I undertake such a task, no matter who I try to save!" "Did those pirates capture you, too, as well as my yacht, Uncle Ezra?" asked Dick. "No--I--I captured your yacht, Nephew Richard," gasped Mr. Larabee, slowly. "But it's a long story, and I'm too weak to tell it now. I--I fell overboard, trying to look and see how near you were to us! Oh, I thought I'd drown, but you saved me! I--I--thank you!" The words seemed to come unwillingly. "You--captured--my--yacht?" asked Dick, slowly, wondering if he had heard aright. "That's what I did--but it was for your own good, Nephew Richard. I'm too weak to talk more now. Please get me some medicine. I know I'll catch rheumatism from getting wet, and then I'll have a doctor's bill to pay." "Take him below--to my stateroom," ordered the young millionaire. "I'll see him later. Now to try and get my yacht. The idea of Uncle Ezra having taken her! I never dreamed of it! I can't understand it." Dick hastened to the bridge again. It was getting dusk, and he feared the chase would be useless. He was met by Widdy. "She's stopped! She's laid to, Mr. Dick!" cried the old salt. "Who has?" "Your yacht! She's waiting for us--she's coming to meet us! I guess they're giving up!" Dick, scarcely able to believe his eyes, peered off in the direction of the _Albatross_. True enough, she was swinging about and approaching the _Golconda_. Dick could not understand what it meant. He did a little later, though, when, having come within hailing distance, the Spanish steamer having been brought to a stop, Dick, looking across the intervening water, saw Captain Barton waving his hand to him. "Captain Hamilton ahoy!" cried the old skipper. "Are you all right?" "Yes! How about you? Is my yacht safe?" yelled back Dick. "Aye, aye! My crew and I have been the prisoners of a gang of dastardly scoundrels, up to within a few minutes ago, when we broke out, and took command again. I've got the villains in irons in the brig, but your Uncle Ezra is missing. He fell overboard and was drowned, they tell me."