While this was going on, a wild-eyed enlisted man, scantily clad in working trousers and undershirt, and evidently under intense excitement, came tumbling up on the superstructure deck, screaming, "Captain, captain."
He ran into half a dozen midshipmen, fell down twice, reached the ladder leading to the pilot house top, still continuing his wild cry of "Captain." He bumped into Captain Brice, and when the latter turned angrily around to him, he thrust a paper into the captain's hands.
Commander Brice read the paper, and then in a stentorian voice cried out: "Cease firing."
At the same instant Commander Shaw touched Robert on the shoulder and called "time."
"Cease firing," repeated Commander Brice. "Keep Mr. Drake and his crew at the gun! Hard a starboard the helm! Call away the life-boat. Gunner's mate, get up twelve rifles and rifle ammunition, double time! Captain Shaw, detail Lieutenant Joynes to take charge of the life-boat; have two midshipmen crews, armed with rifles, prepared to go in the life-boat when it is lowered. Ease the helm, amidships with it—steady so."
Many pairs of surprised eyes were upon Commander Brice. With glasses up to his eyes, he was now looking at a yacht on the starboard bow, recognized by everybody to be the "Robert Centre" which, some distance away, was careening far to one side and was bowling along at a furious speed.
"Mr. Drake!" called out Commander Brice.
"Sir?"
"Do you see the 'Robert Centre'?"
"Yes, sir."