"Toot! toot! too-oo-oot!" sounded the yacht's steam whistle, shrilly.
At the same time her engines reversed. Another of the mutineers rushed to the rail, waving a white towel.
"In heaven's name, don't do it!" he bellowed, hoarsely.
"You surrender, then?" demanded Ennerling, stiffly, though his heart must have bounded with joy. "Wise men! We're not going to put a prize crew aboard. You'll have to take the yacht in. Head about for the coast, taking the course as we signal it. Don't try any tricks, or any slowing down of speed. The least sign of treachery, and we'll sink you without further warning—"
"—if we can do such a trick with compressed air alone," added Commander Ennerling in a tone heard only by those near him on the platform deck. "Captain Benson, what is the nearest place on this coast with a police force capable of taking charge of such a crowd."
"Clyde City is about a thirty-two mile run from here, sir," Jack answered. "There's a harbor police boat there."
"Then make for Clyde City, please. I'll attend to signaling the yacht."
As the two vessels proceeded on their way the ladies below were made as comfortable as possible. Mr. Lawton and his steward were provided with dry clothing, and coffee was served. It was an hour before either Jack or Hal found time to change their clothing in the motor room.