"I don't suppose you would be fined—in the circumstances to which I'm going to refer," said Burgoyne earnestly. "It's quite possible that we may fall in with the Malfilio. She's away cruising, and she may be well south of the Line. The Pacific's wide, I know, and the probability of running up against her is small; but strange things happen at sea. She's got the speed of you by at least six knots."
"Well?"
"Then you'll have to bluff her," continued Burgoyne. "She'll fight shy of a White Ensign, even if flown from a mud-hopper, although she hasn't hesitated to use it herself.... If you had wireless——"
"We haven't," said Swayne. "Didn't have any use for it."
"Perhaps it's as well," agreed Alwyn. "But let me advise you to get a White Ensign made up in case of emergency."
"Right-o, I will," replied Swayne. "We've a spare Red Ensign. It won't be much of a job to work in white bunting where necessary. I'll put a couple of hands on that at once. I don't fancy Miss Vivian borrowed both sewing-machines; but I do know she took one into the cabin and yards of white duck and drill."
At one bell in the forenoon watch a vessel was sighted broad on the starboard beam, and shaping a converging course towards the Titania.
"What do you make of her, George?" inquired Swayne.
Burgoyne had already brought his binoculars—formerly the property of the late Black Strogoff and possibly that of an honest man before the pirate lieutenant acquired them—to bear upon the stranger.
"Make of her?" he repeated softly. "There's not much doubt about it. That vessel is the Malfilio."