"Not likely. That despatch came only an hour ago. If we remain here we are almost bound to intercept her."
"And if she does slip past us?"
"Then I'll keep after her, if I have to crack on clear down to the South Pole," said Ned grimly. "I don't intend to let that gang slip through my fingers!"
"I've got a few scores to settle myself," cried Herc. "When I think of that cellar——"
He gritted his teeth and clenched his freckled fists. It would have fared ill with any of the gang within reach of his hands at that moment.
"Well, let's go below to breakfast," said Ned presently. "The watch will notify us of anything unusual."
"Breakfast!" scoffed Herc. "I suppose it will be the same as supper last night. Business of eating with one hand while you claw on to a stanchion with the other. Tell you what, Ned, these destroyers are too lively a type of craft for me."
"They're just the type to overhaul those rascals we're after, and that's good enough for me," rejoined Ned. "I wouldn't care if I had to eat standing on my head just to get a chance at those fellows."
"'Use no half-way measures,'" said Herc musingly, repeating the Secretary's instructions. "I guess we won't, Ned, eh?"
"Well, if they should happen to want trouble, they'll get all that they're looking for," laughed Ned, as they descended the pitching, swinging iron ladder that led to the cramped cabin of the Henry.