ABOARD THE "SALVADORE."

The Grampus was between Elizabeth Island and the island of Santa Madalena when the war ship was sighted. She was headed eastward, and by the time Dick got the hatch opened and looked out, the distance between the two boats had rapidly narrowed.

There was a good deal of excitement on the deck of the war ship. Officers were crowding the bridge and sailors were pressing against the rail, forward. Several of the officers had glasses to their eyes and were studying the submarine with ill-concealed curiosity.

The waters of the strait were as smooth as a pond, and it was possible for the Grampus to come close alongside the larger vessel.

"Ahoy!" roared Dick.

An answer was returned in Spanish.

"Can't savvy your lingo," roared Dick, making a trumpet of his hands. "Haven't you got any one aboard who can talk English?"

"What ship is that?" cried an officer, so heavily embroidered with gold lace, brass buttons, and epaulettes that Dick was sure he must be the captain.

"It's the submarine Grampus," answered Dick.

"English?"

"No, American, although I'm English, fast enough."

"Where's your flag?"

The war ship had slowed her engines and was lying to.

Dick signaled the engine room for just enough speed to give the submarine steerageway.

"We're under water so much," said Dick, in answer to the officer's question, "that we can't fly our colors."

"Is that a government vessel?"

"Not now, but she will be as soon as we get her to Mare Island Navy Yard."

"I'd like to send a man aboard of her to look her over," said the captain. "Come closer alongside and heave to."

"We can't allow you to look her over," said Dick. "There are improvements on this boat that no other nation is going to get hold of."

Dick was not very tactful. Whenever he wanted to make a point, he took the shortest way to it. His answer seemed to anger the officer.

"You're talking to a captain in the Chilian navy," cried the officer, an ostrich plume in his hat quivering with the wrath that shook his body. "If I want to look that boat over I'll do it. Who's your captain?"

"Better let me come up and talk with him, Dick," said Matt, who, at the foot of the iron ladder, had heard all that had passed between his chum and the captain of the war ship.

Instead of coming down the ladder, Dick got out on the deck.

"I am in charge of this boat, captain," Matt called up to the commander of the war ship, "but there is a representative of the United States Navy with us, and his orders are that the boat is not to undergo inspection. I am sorry, but, you see, this boat has virtually been purchased by the United States Government."

"If you're in charge," came from the man on the war ship's bridge, "then come up here—I want to talk with you."

"I shall be glad to do so," Matt answered, "but, first, we have some prisoners we should like to turn over to you."

"Prisoners?"

"Yes, escaped convicts."

"Ah, ha! You found those five rascals, did you?"

"Yes, captain. Their boat had overturned and we picked them off the craft's bottom not far from Cape Virgins during the storm late yesterday afternoon."

"Good enough! We were looking for those men. Come up close under our lee and we'll send down a rope for the prisoners and a sea ladder for you."

"Better drop a bosun's chair, captain," suggested Dick. "One of the men has a broken arm."

The officer turned and gave some directions. While these were being carried out, the Grampus was manoeuvred around the stern of the war ship and up under the lee. As they passed the stern, Matt and Dick saw the war ship's name. It was the Salvadore.

"That other ship, we talked with by wireless," commented Dick, "wasn't the Salvadore, by a long shot."

"I had a hunch to that effect right along," answered Matt.

As soon as the Grampus was close in, on the lee side of the larger vessel, a bosun's chair and a sea ladder were in readiness. Dick went below to help bring up the prisoners.

The leader came bellowing and roaring his wrath. He fought against being placed in the bosun's chair, and a rope was flung down from the steamer's rail. Dick caught the end of the rope and it was tied around the Chilian's body, under the arms. The rascal was still howling as he was snatched aloft and dragged to the war ship's deck.

Another rope was sent down for the second uninjured prisoner. He went up quietly, but with a stern face and glittering eyes.

The man with the broken arm made no struggle, but silently took his place in the bosun's chair. When he had been safely lifted over the war ship's rail, the captain leaned over and called down:

"Where are the other two? There were five who escaped."

Matt explained how the two missing convicts had got away. Just as he finished, a junior officer stepped to the captain's side, touched his arm, and said something in a low tone.

"Now you come up," called the captain, beckoning to Matt; "I want to talk with you."

The captain turned away from the rail.

"You vould t'ink dot brass-plated feller owned der eart'," remarked Carl. "Ve vas free American cidizens, py shinks, und he don'd got some pitzness shpeaking to us like vat he dit."

"Nonsense, Carl," laughed Matt, "that's only his way."

The sailors on the war ship gave the rope ladder a heave that sent it close enough for Matt to catch it. Gripping the iron rungs, Matt allowed himself to swing from the submarine's deck. He was jarred a little as he struck the armored side of the war ship, but he went on up to the rail quickly and easily.

An officer said something to him and took him by the arm. Leading him aft, they entered a passageway at the break in the poop, walked along it a few steps, and then turned in at an open door.

Two men, who were armed with muskets and looked like marines, stepped on each side of Matt as he entered.

Dick, Glennie, and Carl, down on the deck of the Grampus, had watched Matt vanish over the rail with anything but easy minds.

"I don't like the looks of things, mates," said Dick, "and that's a fact."

"Me, neider," added Carl. "Dot feller in der brass drimmings shpeaks like ve vas togs. He iss some Shmard Alecs, I bed you."

"I don't think Matt ought to have gone aboard the war ship," averred Glennie.

Dick turned on him in a flash.

"Then why didn't you say so?" he demanded sharply. "You're an officer in the United States Navy, and these Chilian swabs wouldn't dare lay a finger on you. What did you let Matt go for, when you could have gone just as well?"

"Hold your luff, Ferral," answered Glennie, reddening. "You didn't think I stayed off that war ship because I was afraid, did you?"

"I'm a Fiji if I know why you stayed off," scowled Dick. "That dago captain is hot because he couldn't come aboard the Grampus——"

"He's hot because you refused him the privilege in the way you did."

"Oh, my eye!" scoffed Dick.

The dislike Dick had for Glennie was increased by a vague alarm for Matt, and the ensign and Matt's sailor chum were never nearer an open rupture than at that moment. Dick's fists had clinched, and a dangerous gleam had leaped into Glennie's eyes.

Carl, to his great credit be it stated, interfered. He had as little liking for Glennie as Dick had, but he saw the folly of quarreling under the eyes of the Salvadore's sailors.

"Dot vill do you, Tick!" growled Carl. "You vant dose tagos to t'ink Modor Madd's friendts vas a punch oof yaps? Keep shdill mit yourseluf; und you, Glennie, nodding more schust now, oof you blease."

Glennie turned and walked to the base of the conning tower. There he sat down moodily and watched the war ship, hoping every moment to see Matt reappear.

"I don't like that swab a little bit," muttered Dick to Carl. "There's something wrong with his top-hamper. Do you recollect the time he came aboard the Grampus, Carl? How he laid it down that we were all to 'mister' him?"

"We can't forged dot," said Carl, "aber id vas pedder dot ve try, Tick."

"I guess he'd like to make us black his boots, if he could."

"Nod so pad as dot. He's a prave feller—you saidt dot yourseluf ven he vas heluping you und Matt safe dose fellers on der poat."

"Of course he's got nerve, but he spoils it all with that way of his. Why didn't he put in his oar, while that cock of the walk up there was ordering Matt around?"

"He knowed pedder as to inderfere mit Matt's pitzness, same as you und me. Modor Matt knows vat he's got to do, und chenerally, you bed you, he does id. Nicht wahr?"

Dick remained silent. He was not acting at all like himself, but was angry because something had not been said or done to keep Matt off the Salvadore.

Half an hour passed, with the war ship and the submarine lying alongside of each other. At the end of that time another officer, who could not talk English quite so fluently as the captain, thrust his head over the rail.

"We go to Punta Arenas," he called down. "You come 'long in your leetle boat."

"Where's our skipper?" roared Dick.

"He iss arrest'," was the calm answer. "You know more w'en you get to Punta Arenas!"

Dick said a good many wild and unreasonable things, then, but no one on the war ship paid any attention to him. Carl said quite a few things, too, but, strange as it may seem, he had himself under better control than Dick.

The war ship got under headway again, put about and started westward along the strait. There was nothing for the Grampus to do but to follow.