Ned opened his eyes. His first thought was that he was in his bunk on the Seneca. But an instant's glance about at his surroundings soon dispelled that idea.

He lay on a rough shelf, rather than bunk, on a pile of dirty blankets. Another frowsy covering was thrown over him. Above him were beams and cross planks by which he would have known, even had it not been for the motion, that he was on board a vessel of some sort.

The place in which he found himself was clearly a small cabin. In the center of the forward bulkhead stood a rusty stove with a high rail to keep the pots and pans simmering on it from sliding off under the motion of the ship.

Some sea clothes swung from a line stretched[Pg 174] across the ceiling. In a corner, against a locker, stood some hip boots, above which oil-skin coats were hung. The place was dirty, stuffy and smoky to the last degree. The last mentioned attribute was not improved by the sooty radiance from a dim lantern swinging from one of the carlines.

"Where on earth—what——?" muttered Ned, raising himself on one arm as he made his survey.

And then, like the inrush of the tide, memory came back.

The storm, the wild ride of the motor boat! The confession of Kenworth, the yielding of the note book, and then the last terrible scene when the immense black mountain that towered above them for a flash had engulfed and broken them!

Ned felt weak and dizzy. But his mind rapidly cleared. He had a vague recollection of having been struck a blow when the motor boat was cut in half. Beyond that he knew nothing more.[Pg 175] Yet he must have been rescued. Determined to unravel the mystery and also to ascertain if possible what had become of Kenworth and Saki, he made an effort to rise.

But he was so weak that it was some moments after he had made the first attempt that he succeeded. His coat hung near him on a hook. His shirt and trousers he had on. His first action, when he reached for his coat, was to dive into its pockets in search of the book he had forced from Kenworth.

He gave an exclamation of satisfaction as he felt its outlines and drew it forth. It was damp, but not wet within its covers, for the outside of the volume that contained so many of Uncle Sam's secrets was clasped tightly by a strong rubber band. This had kept the water from smudging any of the drawings or writing.

But Ned just then did not give much thought to the book, precious to him though it was. His main object was to discover just where he was[Pg 176] and how he came there. There was a steep little stairway, or ladder, opposite the stove.

Ned climbed it and found himself on the stern deck of a small schooner. She was spanking along, eating her way up against a head breeze while great clouds of sparkling spray tossed over her thundering, pounding bow.

Standing beside the wheel was a short, thick-set man with iron-gray whiskers shot with reddish hair. He was roughly dressed and a pipe,—short and thick like himself,—was in his mouth.

By his side sat a one-eyed black and white dog, with one ear cropped and the other hanging down dejectedly. Forward, Ned saw two men attending to the jib sheets as the schooner came about and went away on another tack.

The man at the wheel being too busy in attending to this maneuver to notice Ned, the Dreadnought Boy, with the thunder of the shivering sails in his ears, looked about him.[Pg 177] He instantly recognized their whereabouts. The schooner was crossing New York Bay.

Looking back he could see the battlemented spires and domes of the skyscrapers on the lower end of Manhattan Island, and further up the East River the spidery outlines of Brooklyn Bridge. Ferryboats moved rapidly to and from Staten Island, and close at hand a big tramp was coming along, making for her dock in the Erie Basin.

As the rattle and bang of the sails ceased as they took the wind and the schooner filed off on the other tack, the thick-set man at the wheel gave his attention to Ned. So did the dog. It came sniffing around his ankles growling ominously.

The bearded man removed his pipe.

"Here you, Tops'l, go off on another tack, d'ye hear? Starboard, hard over!"

The sea-going canine appeared to understand,[Pg 178] for it relinquished its scrutiny of Ned and came over to its master.

"Inter drydock with you, you flea-chawed stepson of a coyote," grunted the man, and then he was free to turn his attention to Ned.

"Hello!" he grunted gruffly. "How yer feelin'?"

"Pretty good, thanks," responded Ned. "I guess it's you I have to thank for saving me from the Sound last night, for I see by the sun that its near noon of another day."

"'Tis that. We lost a lot of time down ther East River. It's gittin' so that tugs clutters up the river worser nor taxicabs does the streets. But we come down under sail. No fifteen dollars down fer me, thank you."

He looked oddly at Ned from under his bushy eyebrows.

"Can you anyways recall jes' what happened las' night?" he asked presently.

Ned shook his head.

[............