"That's not our boat," said the ensign disappointedly.
"But what can have become of the sloop, sir?" wondered Ned. "Surely, she couldn't have vanished from sight during the night. She's not a fast enough sailer for that."
"True," said Bulkley. "By Jove!" he exclaimed suddenly, "you don't think those chaps have disguised her, do you?"
"They might have, sir. Don't you think it's worth while to board that schooner, anyhow?"
"I do, Strong," agreed the officer.
The destroyer was headed toward the schooner. The wind had dropped and the vessel was rolling idly on the oily sea.
"Aboard the schooner there!" cried the officer, as they came up close to the vessel with the peculiar-looking after-mast. "Stand by! We are going to board you."
A bearded man stood at the helm. He was the only person visible. Ned scrutinized his face eagerly, but could not recognize him. This individual only waved a hand in response to the officer's order. But, as the destroyer's way was checked, and she lay idly on the waves, he suddenly vanished into the cabin. The next instant a square port at the schooner's bow was swung open, and, without the slightest warning, a long, shining, cylindrical object was shot forth.
It struck the water with a swirl of spray, and then, with a line of white wake, in its swift course, headed straight for the destroyer.
"A torpedo!" exclaimed the officer, who, with Ned, was just about to clamber into one of the lowered boats.