"By the bald-headed American steer," he grunted, in the seclusion of his cabin, "this beats anything I ever tackled. However, orders are orders and must be obeyed to the letter. I've got to get into communication with Ned. Just as if I wouldn't have done that long ago if I'd had the chance!"
Turning the command of the ship over to one of the warrant officers, Herc changed into plain clothes and then summoned the crew of his gig. He was rowed ashore and sought out the man from whom Ned had rented the gasoline craft which took him to Civic Island.
The man could shed no light on the matter, beyond saying that he had taken Ned to his destination. A sudden determination came over Herc.
Ned had, then, arrived at Civic Island. He must go there at once and take up the trail.
"It's a blind one," he muttered, "but I'll follow it to the end if it costs me my commission."
Some time later the same gasoline craft that had conveyed Ned, landed Herc at Civic Island. It had fought its way alongshore through the same storm that had brought disaster to Ned. Despite the idea he had formed of the difficulties of the task in front of him, Herc did not imagine, even in his more despondent moments, what a trail of trouble it was that he had set out upon.