Joyce and his comrade disappeared into the cabin, swiftly returning with repeating rifles that they had brought aboard.
Tom, in the meantime, had slowed down the speed of the “Meteor.” To those aboard the tug it might have looked as though the officers were giving up the pursuit.
“Go ahead, now, captain,” directed Mr. Lawrence. “Right after the scoundrels at full speed.”
As the “Meteor” once more cut the water, showing that she could easily overhaul the tug, Alvarez and two of his men were shown in the searchlight rays to be returning to their cannon.
“Open up on them, but just pester them,” directed the inspector. “Don’t try to hit them unless they insist on loading their piece.”
Zip! zip! zip! Bullets struck the deck house and side rails of the tug as the two United States officers fired rapidly.
Alvarez, at the first fire, pulled off his hat, waving it defiantly. But now the continuous fire from the motor boat drove all three from the gun. They fled forward.
“Close right in alongside,” ordered Mr. Lawrence grinning. “Joyce and the other man are experts at the rifle game.”
It took but a few minutes to close the gap between tug and motor boat. As the “Meteor” ran up to port of the filibusters Captain Jonas French was the only man showing beside the seaman in the pilot house.
“We’re going to run alongside and board you!” yelled the inspector. “We won’t have any nonsense, either. It will be worse for you if you try it.”