In about fifteen minutes, the "Rambler" drew near to the other boat, which was being kept in the same position by a little manœuvering.
Nat turned his inseparable megaphone toward them. He seemed to have recovered all his old-time sarcastic manner.
"Come on! Come right in front of us!" he bawled. "We didn't hit you quite right last time."
A loud sound, not capable of being described in a few words, issued from the megaphone, then a clear voice: "Don't you dare to forget that we are the Pirates of the Bounding Deep."
"Of the bounding deep!" echoed John Hackett and the others.
"Do you think he would have the audacity to run into us again?" asked Dick Travers. "I wouldn't mind giving them a chance, just to find out."
It seemed so apparent that the Trailers were getting ready for hasty action, that no one thought it worth while to answer this remark.
Bob, however, turned sharply to the left, having decided to take no chances, and pass astern.
"Good-bye, Nat!" he cried, waving his hand, as the "Rambler," tearing at full speed, darted past, well astern.
With absolutely no warning, a peculiar grating sound came to the ears of Bob and his companions, while the motor boat began to wabble in a most alarming fashion. As the boys looked at each other in dismay, a severe shock jarred the craft from stem to stern, then it gave a convulsive shiver, and with a suddenness that pitched the Ramblers in a confused heap, turned partly on its side, and came to an abrupt stop. The propeller, raised to the surface, churned and splashed the muddy water in all directions. They had run hard aground on a treacherous sand-bank.