Closer and closer came the sharp, insistent bark of the gasoline motor. Presently a dark shadow glided by at about six boat-lengths from the consul’s launch, lying crouched, as it were, in the shadow of the promontory.

“They’re evidently not afraid of being followed,” whispered Ned, as they waited the midshipman’s word to start up their craft.

At last the command came. The young officer had hesitated to give it sooner, as he wanted to make sure of being out of earshot of the leading motor-boat before he started. Loaded down as she was, the revolutionaries’ craft was making but slow time. It was evident, though, from the rapid beat of her exhaust that her engine was being pressed to the uttermost.

“All right, go ahead!”
 
Like a ferret in pursuit of its prey, the naval party’s launch glided out of its obscurity and set off on what was to prove an eventful chase.

“They’re heading north, sir,” whispered Ned.

“Just as I thought,” came Midshipman Stark’s voice in the darkness.

Luckily the wind was out of that quarter, and while the sound of the other craft’s exhaust was clearly borne back to them, of their own progress it would have been manifestly impossible to hear a sound on the leading launch.

“Speed her up a bit,” ordered the middy. “We don’t want them cutting in shore on us before we’ve a chance to intercept them.”

The launch leaped forward in obedience to his command. She was making a good ten knots now, while her adversary could not at the highest estimate have achieved more than seven. The hearts of all on board beat exultingly. Gradually they could make out a phosphorescent gleam on the water ahead and catch the fleeting glimpse of a dim lantern, which marked the whereabouts of the quarry.
 
“Good, we’ll be up with her in half an hour now,” muttered Stanley, his eyes burning in his head as he riveted them greedily on the chase. The man-of-war’s man was on the work he loved best. The hot blood raced through his veins in the excitement of the chase, as was the case, in fact, with all the party, with one exception. Who that was we shall presently see.

For an hour the steady pursuit was kept up, the naval party keeping as close as they dared to the stern of the other craft. Evidently their plan was working to perfection. It was clear that those on the leading boat had no idea that they were being pursued. Once or twice a snatch of song floated back to those behind her.

“Sing away while you’ve got the chance,” muttered Stanley grimly. “You’ll sing a different tune before long.”

Suddenly out of the blackness ahead something flashed from a low point of land.

“A red light!” exclaimed Ned.

“Red light ahead, sir!” warned Stanley hoarsely.
 
“Ay, ay, I see it,” breathed the middy. “We’re on the old fox’s hole now.”

All at once the speed of the launch, which had been as steady as an automobile, suddenly checked. She began to drop behind.

“Consarn it! what’s the trouble now?” growled Stanley, while the middy skipped aft.

“What’s the matter, my man?” he asked of the solitary figure bending over the engine.

“Don’t know, sir. The motor’s slowing down.”

“Well, fix her, and fix her quick. We can’t afford to lose time now.”

“Sorry, sir,” muttered the engineer, “but it may take some time to locate the trouble.”

He bent over the engine and appeared to be deep in efforts to adjust it. But Ned’s quick ear had caught a sound which sent him leaping back along the length of the launch’s cockpit. Hastily he bent over the engine and felt a bearing. It was hot to the touch, and he withdrew his hand sharply, but some substance clung to it. In the light of the single lamp illumining the motor he extended his palm for the officer’s inspection.
 
“Sand, sir!”

“You scoundrel, were you trying to cripple the motor?” shot out the middy, his eyes flashing.

The engineer turned up a white, scared face. As the light of the lantern illumined it Ned could not suppress a cry of surprise and recognition. The man was the same who had dived overboard for the letter from the fishing boat, and who had aroused the boy’s suspicion on other occasions.

“Why, no, sir!” exclaimed the man in an injured tone. “You see, we keep sand to extinguish a fire in case one starts from the gasoline. I guess some of it got sprinkled on the bearing.”

“And I think you’re lying,” muttered Ned, as he rapidly cleansed the bearing and the launch once more shot ahead.

Now the red light was swinging to and fro on the point as if it were a signal.

“I guess the revolutionists are camped there as thick as flies round molasses,” hazarded Stanley. “What are we to do, sir—keep on?”

“Yes, keep on!” ordered the middy in a tense voice. Though he strove to keep them calm, his[126] accents were vibrant with suppressed excitement.

“Cut in there, Stanley, cut in!” he exclaimed suddenly, as the launch in the lead began to turn her nose toward the shore. By this time the naval launch had forged up into an inside position, and lay between the revolutionaries’ craft and the point. If there was shoal water there should be no difficulty in cutting the gun-runner off.

“Full speed ahead, and no monkeying with those engines,” grated out the middy, with so fierce a look that the engineer instantly obeyed.

Up and up they crept, without apparently being perceived, till they were within a boat’s length. Then a man was seen to leap upward on the stern of the other launch and gaze back. He gave a shout of surpris............