"Distress sign, without a doubt," mused the Naval officer. "Wonder what it means?"
Jack had reached for a pair of night glasses, which he now handed
Commander Ennerling.
Already the "Pollard" had swung to a bow-on course and was making straight for the steam yacht.
"Mutiny, by Jove!" murmured the Naval officer. He did not speak excitedly, but with a certain grim dryness. "Catch up with them as soon as you can, Captain Benson."
"There they go, heading away from us," muttered Captain Jack.
"From her present performance she doesn't look to be over a fourteen-knot boat," declared Ennerling. "You won't be long in running alongside."
"What do you make out, sir?"
"A white-haired old man, in a yachting suit, and another man in white duck. They are aft, and both appear to be holding pistols. There are two women, one middle-aged, I should say, and the other barely more than a girl. Excellent glasses, these, Benson."
"Can you make out any mutineers?"
"There are some men, pressing back astern, yet seemingly not wholly liking to risk revolver fire," went on Commander Ennerling. "I don't believe I can make out all the mutineers, from this point of view."