"B-b-b-but it is meant for——"
"Give it to me. If I should be saved, I will see that the proper authorities get it. If not, there will no harm come of it. Come, hand it over."
Quivering from head to foot, white-faced and limp-fingered, Kenworth fumbled in his pockets. He drew out a book and handed it over to Ned. The Dreadnought Boy took it and thrust it into his pocket.
Hardly had he done so before a giant wave swept down on the motor boat. Caught in the trough of the seas, the craft wallowed helplessly.
Then, half full of water, she sidled down the other side. Ned saw that the end was at hand. With a white, set face he ripped out some life preservers from under the seats.
"Here, put these on," he commanded Kenworth and the Jap.
As he spoke, he flung one to each. They seized them, their teeth chattering and their throats uttering sounds that were hardly human. Ned took one himself and buckled it on.
"At least the stolen secrets of the United States Navy are in safe hands now," he muttered; "if I go to the bottom, there is no better keeper of confidences than old Davy Jones. If I should save my life, no power on earth will separate me from them till I have placed them in the hands of the naval authorities."
The half-filled boat kept afloat with wonderful seaworthiness, considering her narrow build. Wave after wave, that it appeared must engulf her half water-logged hull, she rode right gallantly.