"Right," Darrin nodded.
"And dese are British vaters!"
"No matter," Dave smiled back at the blustering fellow. "Here come the Englishmen."
For he had sent four of his men to catch and make fast the lines from the British launch, and now the British jack-tars, taking their beating in the race good-humoredly, were piling on board.
"Captain," cried Lieutenant Whyte, striding forward, "I represent Admiral Barkham, ranking officer of His Majesty's Navy in these waters. I have the Admiral's orders to search this craft."
"You search him for vat, sir?" demanded the skipper.
"My orders are secret, sir. The search will begin at once. Ensign Darrin, if you will leave your marines to hold the deck, we will use all our seamen and yours below."
"Very good, sir," Dave replied, saluting. "You do not wish any one allowed to leave the yacht, do you, Lieutenant?"
"Not without my permission or yours, Ensign."
Dave accordingly gave the order to the corporal in charge of his marine party.