“It’s Blowitz!” exclaimed Mr. De Vere, “and he’s shaking his fist at me. He’s angry because I have beaten him at his own game. But come on, I don’t want a clash with him. I am in no shape for another fight. We’ll have to retreat.”
It was the work of but a few seconds to get into the motor boat. The lines were cast off, and, with one turn of the wheel Ned started the engine, and ran her up to full speed after a few revolutions.
“Now let them have the brig,” said Mr. De Vere. “I’ve gotten the best out of her.”
But Blowitz and his men seemed to have lost interest in the derelict. Instead of continuing on their course toward it they were now coming full speed after the Ripper, the tug being steered to cross her bows. Probably Blowitz took it for granted that De Vere had the papers and gold.
“They’re after us!” cried Jerry.
“Yes, but they’ve got to catch us!” declared Bob.
An instant later a puff of white smoke spurted out from the side of the Monarch, something black jumped from wave-crest to wave-crest. Then came a dull boom.
“What’s that?” asked Bob, in alarm.
“A shot across our bows. A command to lay to,” said Mr. De Vere.