"Thank heaven, I've got the pontoons on," he thought.
But even while his mind and body were thus busied, Ned had time to observe the sloop. She had taken advantage of the puff of wind, and was now rapidly slipping off toward a not far distant point of land. Ned's eye took in her every detail. She was black and squat, yet with a certain raciness of line, and heavily canvassed. Round her bulwarks ran a bright crimson line. She bore no name that Ned could see.
The aeroplane struck the water with a splash that threw the spray high above her planes. But the pontoons saved her from being submerged. A moment after she had struck the surface of the water she was floating like a sea-bird on its surface.
"Ahoy, there!" came a hail.
Ned glanced in the direction and saw the young middy striking out boldly for the floating aeroplane.
"Hurt, sir?" demanded Ned.
"Not a bit; the water's fine," was the cheery response. "But, confound it all, I've lost my rifle."
Ned swung the aeroplane round, using the regular aerial propellers to drive her over the water. It was not many minutes before a dripping but cheerful middy was seated once more by his side.
"I say, Strong," he remarked, "I guess the less said about this adventure the better. You understand. I had no business to fire at those chaps on the sloop, as a matter of fact, but I couldn't help it. What do you think they fired at us for?"