Frank slid down the rope which Mr. Temple, braced in the bow of the boat, held steady for him. Jack and Bob already were at the oars and fending off from the side of the trawler. Fat little Doctor Marley crouched frightened in the stern.

“Give ’way,” cried Matt Murphy, from above.

As he made his way across the thwarts toward the stern, the better to trim the boat, Frank glanced up. Over the rail of the trawler leaned Matt Murphy waving farewell with his uninjured hand, in which was clutched the revolver taken from Frank.

Frank waved as his chums bent lustily to the oars and the boat began to dance across the still water, widening the gap between it and the trawler. A feeling of regret at parting with Murphy crossed Frank’s mind. A strange man, a leader of crooks, was Murphy. Yet Frank had been quick to sense the finer instincts beneath the surface and companionable traits which drew him strangely.

From the deck of the trawler there floated to them now a high jabbering of Chinese. They were in sight, and the thwarted Orientals were angry at seeing their prey escape. They ran to the rail and leaned over, jabbering away. One—the man with the revolver—whipped up his arm and fired. The bullet skimmed the water close to the stern, and Doctor Marley whimpered and threw himself flat on the bottom boards.

The next moment they could see Matt Murphy coolly raise his weapon and fire. But not at them. His shot caught the Chinese gunman in the arm, and the latter’s revolver fell into the sea as he seized the injured member and danced about in shrieking agony.

“Look,” cried Frank, “he’s driving them back into the forecastle.”

Murphy was, indeed, driving the Chinese away from the rail. His voice came only faintly to the boat, but its occupants could see him kicking, striking with clubbed revolver, forcing the Orientals below. One by one they disappeared into the forecastle door until the deck was cleared of them. Then Murphy turned, a tiny figure now on the deck, and waved once more to the boat.

“Lay on your oars now, Jack,” advised Bob. “Murphy said to lay here until the Sub Chaser, which had our position, picked us up.”

“So Murphy gave you some explanation about things, hey?” asked Frank. “I’m all at sea all right, in my mind as well as the boat. What’s it all about? Where did he come from so suddenly? How, with that broken arm, did he get this boat lowered? Why did he drive us off the trawler? And why did we come away, anyhow? We were in a ticklish position, but still might have held on until the Sub Chaser arrived. Then we’d have had our birds.”

Bob glanced around the horizon.

“Not a sign of smoke indicating the Sub Chaser,” he said, “unless it’s that tiny film off there”—pointing to the southwest. “What position did the Sub Chaser give, Frank, and how far away was it?”

“That’s the Chaser, all right,” said Frank. “She was southwest from us and about fourteen knots away. Said she’d be up in an hour easy.”

He pulled out his watch.

“Why,” he declared, “it must have stopped. No”—listening—“it’s going all right. But it certainly is hard to believe. Only twenty-five minutes since we left the cabin. I looked at my watch then. And less since I called the Chaser. It’ll be some time before it comes up.”

“Look,” cried Jack pointing, “the trawler’s belching a thicker smoke. And, yes—she’s beginning to steam away from us.”

“I suppose,” said Mr. Temple, “that Murphy is going to try to escape.” He called to Doctor Marley. “Doctor, you were with Murphy and helped him lower this boat. What did he say to you? Why did he help us at all? Did he tell you?”

The fat little man crouching at Frank’s side, still in an attitude of fright, looked up for the first time. As he saw the distance between the trawler and boat steadily widening an expression of relief lit up his face.

“Chinese frighten me dreadfully,” he said, shuddering a little. “I’m so glad I escaped. And that man, ‘Black George,’ too. I have attended him before, and so his men came and got me out of bed the other night when he was injured. But I never dreamed of being taken on his boat. Oh, I am so glad I escaped.”

“Yes, yes, Doctor,” said Mr. Temple. “But tell us what you know, please.”

“There isn’t much to tell,” he said. “I gathered from a hint dropped by the cook that the Chinese aboard wanted vengeance on you people because of the way you had laid out old Wong Ho, their leader. There is some queer clannishness, some tie, that I don’t understand. But it is quite certain they did thirst for your blood.

“So I went to Engineer MacFinney and warned him the Chinese might try to break down his engines, in order to seize the ship before it reached its destination and thus get you in their power without interference from Folwell’s land forces. He went below, and presently called me and I joined him.

“He had the engines working. The dozen Chinese aboard were busy under his directions. He took me aside, out of their hearing, and ordered me to go to the Chinese cook—who, for some reason, probably because he was of another tong or clan, was not on good terms with the rest of the crew.

“‘Tell him,’ he ordered me, ‘to go into the forecastle and take away all the revolvers hidden there. He’ll know where to find them. These fellows always carry their knives, but if they have any revolvers around, we’ll appropriate those at least.’

“I was frightened, gentlemen. I am a man of peace. But the burly engineer overawed me, and drove me forth to do his bidding. The cook found a number of revolvers and appropriated them, hiding them in his pans. But evidently, he overlooked one revolver or else the man possessing it carried it with him, for you were shot at several times by one of the Chinese.”

“I’ll say we were,” declared Frank, slangily.

“Then,” continued the doctor, “when I returned to the engine room, the Chinese all left. Perhaps they suspected some treachery toward them was going on. At any rate, they scampered for the forecastle, and Engineer MacFinney couldn’t stop them with his curses and blows.

“A moment or two later, Matt Murphy came into the engine room. Mr. MacFinney was working at his gauges. Murphy beckoned me, and I followed to the deck. He asked me to help him lower a boat and tie it to the stern. He said the Chinese were plotting an attack even then, and that if I wanted to save my life I must carry out his orders. I obeyed.

“As we worked, I asked whether he was coming, too? ‘No,’ said he, ‘ye’ll be picked up by Uncle Sam’s men. Them byes are calling a speedy patrol boat by radio right now. I want to get ’em off an’ away quick, so we can escape in the trawler. I don’t want to be put in prison the rest o’ my life.’

“‘But this trawler is slow,’ I protested. ‘How can you hope to escape from a fast patrol boat?’

“‘Fog,’ said he. ‘I can smell it comin’. After last night’s storm, it’s bound to come up. If it only comes in time we can hide in it, an’ that’s our chance.’”

“Fog?” cried Frank, alarmed.

So interested had all been in Doctor Marley’s narrative they had paid no attention to their surroundings. Now, at Frank’s cry, they glanced around.

“Here it comes, too,” Frank added, pointing toward the trawler. The vessel was more than two miles away, and making fast going. As Frank pointed, a wall of fog sweeping across the water engulfed it. One moment, the trawler stood out clear and distinct. The next, it had disappeared entirely from sight, and the fog was rolling toward them.

“Good heavens,” cried Doctor Marley, “we’ll be lost in mid-ocean. How can the patrol boat find us?”

“Here she comes now,” Frank shouted, pointing to the southwest, where the sun yet shone.

“Two or three miles away yet,” said Jack, anxiously, estimating the distance to where the speedy little craft was sending up two columns of water before her prow.

“Wow, and here’s the fog,” shouted Bob.

“Frank, you hold the rudder so that we make a small circle, and Bob and Jack, do you row easily,” called Mr. Temple. “That will be better than merely drifting. The Sub Chaser evidently sees us. It must, for it is undoubtedly on the lookout. It ought to be up in fifteen minutes. Presently we’ll begin to shout.”

His directions were approved and carried out. Some twenty minutes later, in response to their shouts, a muffled hail came across the water. The boys plied their oars. Hails were repeated back and forth. Soon a dark bulk loomed ahead, they bumped into the Sub Chaser, and then one by one clambered to the deck.