"If that's the same vessel," Frank declared, "I'm glad she didn't catch us! They're a hard looking collection of desperadoes."
"She's tacking so as to come close aboard of us," declared Tom. "Shall I shift the course, Jack?" he inquired.
"I don't think so," answered Jack. "Of course under the pilot rules of the United States, a power boat under way must keep clear of a sailing vessel. She has the right of way and seems to be taking it. But we can easily dodge her with our powerful engines."
Closer and closer came the schooner until it seemed that she would surely collide with the motor-boat. When scarcely more than a length Away from the Fortuna, the schooner was brought sharply about on the other tack. As she came about a clear cut whistle sounded shrilly in the morning air:
"Gracious!" cried Frank springing to his feet. "The Bob White."
Instantly he was on deck sending ringing across the water his answer to the challenge of his Patrol:
"Bob White! Bob, Bob White!"
The men on the schooner laughed coarsely as the boy waited for an answer to his challenge. The two vessels were drawing farther apart now. Their voices were indistinguishable, but once more came the call:
"Bob White! Bob, Bob--"