"Boat under sail four miles S.S.W. Crustacean to proceed and investigate."
At her utmost speed, a bare six knots, the little monitor altered helm and stood off in the indicated direction. The sea was now calm, and there was hardly a breath of wind.
At Stirling's suggestion Denbigh, O'Hara, and Armstrong ascended to the fire-control platform. From this lofty perch a considerable expanse of sea could be swept by the aid of powerful glasses.
Away on the starboard hand could be discerned the faint outlines of the African coast, almost hidden in a pale-blue haze. Astern, but on a diverging course, were the monitors Paradox and Eureka, the former flying the broad pendant of the senior officer, Captain Holloway. Ahead, a small patch of greyish-white canvas marked the position of the boat to which the Crustacean was proceeding.
"That's not a Service rig," declared Denbigh, proffering his binoculars to O'Hara.
The Irishman waved them aside.
"No, thanks, old man," said he. "I'll wait. I don't want to crock my eyes any more than they are at present. I'll take your word for it that she's not one of our boats."
"She's a merchantman's cutter," asserted Armstrong. "I wouldn't mind laying odds that she's one of the Pelikan's boats making for Latham Island."
The mate was right, for on discovering the approach of the monitor the cutter altered her course, lowering her canvas and resorting to her oars in the vain hope that she had been unnoticed.
Twenty minutes later, the difference in speed of the monitor and her quarry being very small, Stirling ordered one of the four quick-firers to be discharged. The projectile, falling within fifty yards of the boat, had the desired result, for the men boated their oars and hoisted a square of white cloth as a signal of surrender.