The officer thus addressed laid down his telescope and joined his chief behind the chart-house.
"Look here, Carfax," continued the Lieutenant-Commander, "what do you make of this?"
"This" was a crudely pencilled report, almost obliterated in places where the flying spray had played havoc with indelible pencil.
It was to the effect that both seaplanes had been compelled to alight on the surface for the second time in half an hour. On each occasion they had got well to the west'ard of their quarry, hoping to keep in the eyes of the setting sun and thus approach without being observed. They had succeeded in getting within three miles of the fugitive, when unaccountably their engines "konked".
"Alighted and made examination," proceeded the report. "Everything O.K. Restarted; came down again. Are now up again. Will——"
Here the message ended.
"Why didn't the silly owl finish?" inquired Trehallow testily.
"'Cause, sir, he's probably had to come down again," hazarded Carfax. "Can't wireless with the aerial trailing in the water and all hands trying to find out what's wrong with the old 'bus. 'Tany rate, we're only fifteen miles astern."
"And a stern chase is a long one," commented the Lieutenant-Commander, glancing at a western sky.
"Where is the pirate making for, I wonder?" inquired Cavendish, turning to Carfax, when the skipper had gone into the chart-room.