just now! Come on, Copplestone—more stuff on this fire!"
"I don't think we need be uneasy," said Copplestone. "Miss Greyle thinks that her mother will have raised a hue and cry after the Pike. This torpedo thing is probably looking round for us. She—what's that?"
The sudden sharp crack of a gun came across the calm surface of the sea, and the watchers turning from their fire towards the black object in the distance saw a cloud of white smoke drifting away from it.
"Hooray!" shouted Vickers. "She's seen our smoke-pillar! Shove more on, just to let her know we understand. Saved!—this time, anyway."
Half-an-hour later, a spick and span and eminently youthful-looking naval lieutenant raised his cap to the three folk who stood eagerly awaiting his approach at the edge of the surf.
"Miss Greyle? Mr. Vickers? Mr. Copplestone?" he asked as he sprang from his boat and came up. "Right!—we're searching for you—had wireless messages this morning. Where's the pirate, or whatever he is?"
"Somewhere away to the southward," answered Vickers, pointing into the haze. "He was here two hours ago but he's about as fast as they make 'em, and he's good reason to show a clean pair of heels. However, we've ample grounds for believing him to have gone due south again. Where are you from?"
"Got the message off Dunnett Head, and we'll run
