There came a faint pad of bare feet forward—the watches being changed. Then, as he stood for a moment gazing out at the moonlit sea, he heard the deep voice of the second mate, Liverpool Peters, who had apparently just taken charge of the deck.
"All right, Mr. Swanson. I'll keep a sharp eye on that chart. Sou'-sou'-east by a half east it is."
Mart went sleepily back to bed and thought no more of it. He knew that they were in dangerous waters, but the yacht had a splendid outfit of charts and there was no danger for her among the coral reefs. He was wakened at dawn, however, to find Bob pounding on his door.
"Hey, Mart!" came the voice of his chum excitedly. "Tumble out here."
Mart growled out an unintelligible reply, but Bob resumed his pounding, so the wireless operator reflected that there must be "something doing." Hastily flinging on his clothes, he opened the door and gained the deck.
"Well, what's up, Holly? Why, it's hardly dawn yet!"
"Shut up an' come along to the bridge!" exclaimed Bob. "Dad's up there—Joe Swanson came an' roused him up just now. That's what woke me up."
"Well, what's the matter?" demanded Mart vigorously. "We ain't struck a reef, have we?"
"I'm not quite sure myself, Mart. Swanson said something about Liverpool, so mebbe he's had another scrap. I heard dad tell him to call all hands, then he was out on deck like a house afire, and I came after you."
"Much obliged, old scout," chattered Mart, for the dawn was cold. While they talked, they had been hastening forward, and now they scrambled hastily up to the bridge deck, where they found everyone but the engine-room crew assembled. Jerry Smith was at the wheel, and he wagged his head solemnly at the boys, but they were too excited to notice him.