From somewhere out on the Pacific there sounded a whistle, long drawn out.
“It’s a steamer!” cried Ned. “It has probably sighted the derelict!”
“A steamer,” murmured Mr. De Vere. “If it is not—”
He did not finish, but the boys knew what he meant.
Mr. De Vere hastily thrust the papers into an inner pocket of his coat.
“Distribute the gold among you,” he told the boys. “When we get it aboard the Ripper we can hide it. There is no telling what might happen. If that steamer—”
“It’s the tug Monarch!” cried Jerry, who had hurried up on deck. “It’s coming this way full speed!”
“Then we must leave at once!” decided Mr. De Vere. “I think our boat can beat theirs. I did hope to be able to tow the brig into harbor, and save the cargo, but that is out of the question now. I do not want a fight with Blowitz. Come, boys, we must escape!”
The boys hurriedly divided the gold among them. It made their pockets bulge out, and was quite heavy. Mr. De Vere had his papers safe.
As the derelict hunters all came out on deck they could see the Monarch was much nearer. In bold relief stood a figure in the bow.