, it seemed to me,
the contest could end only one way and as a forlorn hope, I steered
southwest on the chance of cutting across the course of one of the
Pacific steamers, but all I succeeded in raising was the sail of a
Borkentine low down to the south and a few points west.

"About half past two that afternoon the trouble began. The _Shark_ was
nearing the half-mile limit; a long, gray boat of iron, built for speed
and stripped of all superfluous tackle.

"'They are getting ready to show their teeth,' remarked John, pointing
to a group of three men in the bow.

"Besides the men in the bow of the _Shark_, there were several in the
waist leaning over the rail and sizing up the _Storm King_ with cold and
calculating eyes.

"'Let's give 'em a shot, John,' I heard Joe urge.

"'No hurry,' replied his brother; 'don't let them worry you into wasting
any ammunition.'

"In a few minutes John Singleton turned to me, 'could you turn her
course a few points to the north, Captain?' he asked.

"'Certainly,' I replied.

"'Thank you,' responded the lad, 'I've a plan and it won't take over
five minutes.'

"Then he and his friend, Comanche, lowered one of the ship's boats on
the starboard side, where it was sheltered from the sight of the enemy
by the deck cabins just abaft the midships. In this boat were two
rifles, heavily loaded and ready for action. What the boy's scheme was I
did not foresee but it was to develop a short time later.

"Upon the quarter deck of the _Shark_ paced the figure of Captain
Broome, with his long, swinging gorilla-like arms. Suddenly he stopped,
put his hand to his mouth and shouted an order to the men in the bow of
the ship. Then came the quick move of one of the men. A flash leaped
from the mouth of the forward gun, a dull detonation, and a white cloud
of smoke curled back over the bow of the _Shark_, while the shell
plunged into the water directly in front of our prow.

"'That's for us to heave to,' cried John; 'give him our answer,
Comanche, and give it to him hard!'

"Comanche obeyed with belligerent willingness, and with an accuracy of
aim that was utterly surprising to old Bill Broome, for the round shot
struck his boat amidship, and it fell back into the water. The distance
was too great to do execution, but a yell of triumph went up from the
boys on the deck of the _Storm King_.

"'Just a little higher next time,' cried Jack Singleton; 'sweep the
rascal's decks for him.'

"It was