But the stranger continued on her way through the night. Ensign Fullerton regarded the young commanding officer of the gunboat expectantly.
"Put a solid shot across her bows, Mr. Fullerton."
Again the order was transmitted, with little noise. The gun-crew then awaited the signal from the executive officer.
Bang! This time the solid shot struck the water a bare fifty feet ahead of the strange craft's bows as she forged on through the waves, her bow stirring up a gleaming white foam.
"That ought to stop her!" muttered Lieutenant Jack Benson, impatiently.
"I don't believe it is going to, though, sir," reported Ensign Fullerton, studying the other vessel through his night-glass. "I don't see a sign of motion on the stranger's decks."
"Load again with solid shot, then," directed the gunboat's young commander. "This time hit her square in the fore-rigging."
"I'll step below and sight the piece myself," replied Ensign Fullerton.
A few moments later the executive officer reported the port bow gun in readiness for service.
"Fire whenever you are ready, Mr. Fullerton," called Lieutenant Jack, in a low voice.