Herc's story followed.
"There's something mysterious about the band," he said. "Take that bit of ribbon they wear, for instance—what is it? What does it signify?"
"I heard enough of their talk before I drank the drugged water to apprise me of that," said Ned. "These fellows are a bunch of desperate anarchists. They are acting, as far as I can make out, in the interests of some European power, and mean to do all the harm they can to Uncle Sam's navy."
"The despicable scoundrels!" gasped Herc. "But how did Chance and Merritt come to join them?"
"Money, I suppose. They seem to be well supplied. I guess Chance and Merritt are being well paid for the information they can impart to the rascals concerning the secrets of our naval organization."
"Do you think it is possible they could be such traitors?"
"Anything is possible where they are concerned. By the way, Herc, this is no ordinary sloop we are on. In the first place, it is the same craft as that from which I was fired on at the time Midshipman Shrike fell from the aeroplane."
Herc nodded.
"Now I know why that red stripe seemed so familiar," he said.