The four boys from Seacove were not alone in being anxious regarding the Kennebunk and their chance of overtaking her. Every man of the crew of the wrecked auxiliary steamer desired to get aboard the superdreadnaught if there was to be any fresh excitement.
Whistler's chums urged him to waylay Ensign MacMasters for information.
"G'wan, Whistler!" begged Frenchy. "You and him's just like brothers. Ask him if the old Kennebunk is running away from us, or if it's all bunk?" and he grinned at his pun.
"Of course she's not running away," Whistler returned.
"Just the same this cutter is sprinting like all get out," put in Torry. "Be a good fellow, Whistler. Ask Mr. MacMasters what it means."
His chum did not feel that he could do this. There is, after all, a gulf between the quarterdeck and the forecastle. But Whistler put himself in the ensign's way and, saluting smartly, asked a question:
"Beg pardon, sir! Did you find anybody aboard who could translate that torn letter I picked up in the old witch's cabin?"
"That letter addressed to Franz Linder? No, Morgan; there is nobody aboard the cutter who is familiar with German. But the moment we reach the Kennebunk I will put it into Captain Trevor's hands—never fear."
"Shall we really catch the battleship, sir?" asked Whistler eagerly.
"We've got to, Morgan;" declared Mr. MacMasters. "As you boys say, 'there is something doing' and we must be in it."