“What is that on the bow there?” Phil asked anxiously, pointing to a dark shadow on the dimly lighted water.
There was not a doubt but that it was the prize scudding along. Great volumes of smoke poured from her stack. The smoke had betrayed her presence. She was too distant for her hull to be visible.
“Hold your course,” cried Phil joyously. “We can head her off on this line.”
Sydney took from his pockets his Colt revolvers and laid them beside the big navy Colts.
“Have you the rifles, O’Neil?” he asked.
“That I have, sir, and a hundred rounds of ammunition for each one,” replied the faithful man; “and me and Johnson there know how to use them.”
“Well, I trust it won’t be necessary,” said Phil immensely pleased, “but it’s better to be sure than sorry.”
The “Vidette” drew up slowly on the fleeing launch.
“They are surely making for Mariel,” O’Neil announced, “and we can catch them before they reach there.”
Of a sudden the engines, which had been running perfectly, suddenly seemed to slow.