come rather monotonous, and I am afraid that I was
very nearly asleep."

"Well, it was over in that direction," explained Douglas, pointing, "and
it looked as though some one had suddenly opened the slide of a dark
lantern, and as quickly closed it again. However, it _may_, of course,
only have been my fancy--for I, like you, have been frightfully sleepy
for the last two hours; and in any case it could hardly have been an
enemy, for the light was quite two miles away from the ironclads. No, I
must have been-- Hallo! though, there _is_ the light again, and, by
jingo! how quickly it is travelling over the water, too. Here, Terry,
man, wake up! There is something amiss, after all. Go full speed
ahead, for all you are worth. That light is heading straight for the
_Blanco Encalada_, and if it should be an enemy's boat which is carrying
it we shall have all our work cut out to intercept her before she
reaches the flagship. I wonder whereabouts the _Cochrane_ launch is.
She would be of great assistance to us now. Get every knot you can out
of your engines, old man, for I fear foul play."

Terry O'Meara needed no second bidding, for he also had caught sight of
the swiftly moving point of light, and the circumstance reminded him
very forcibly of their own attempt to torpedo the Peruvian fleet lying
in Arica Bay. He pushed over his regulator to its top notch, and
started the weary stokers to the task of shovelling on coal with all
possible dispatch. The tiny screw revolved faster and faster, churning
and frothing the water up astern, and the launch darted away like a
greyhound slipped from the leash. The seamen handled their rifles and
revolvers, to make sure that they were loaded, opening and closing the
breaches with a smart click, while the men in charge of the Gatling gun
moved up forward, close to their weapon, and trained it up and down, and
from side to side, to assure themselves that the mechanism was in
perfect working order.

For a few seconds Douglas's heart seemed to stand still with anxiety,
for it appeared as though the launch would not be able to intercept the
rapidly moving spark of light--which he was now convinced belonged to a
torpedo-boat--before it reached the _Blanco Encalada_, for which ship
the boat was undoubtedly heading. But little by little, as soon as the
engines got into their swing, the launch drew ahead, and after about ten
minutes' steaming Jim saw that he would, all being well, cros