descried upon the horizon,
and he thinks she is a Russian!"

CHAPTER XXVII

The horror which greeted the announcement that a man-o'-war had made
its appearance upon the horizon may be better imagined than described.

"By heaven, we have been trapped!" cried MacAndrew, as he ran out of
the smoking-room in Browne's wake, and gazed out to sea.

They formed a small group in front of the door: Browne, MacAndrew,
Maas, Jimmy Foote, the captain, and the chief-engineer. Day was
scarcely born, yet the small black spot upon the horizon could be
plainly descried by every one of the party, and was momentarily growing
larger. Without doubt it was a man-o'-war. What was more to the
point, she was coming up at a good rate of speed. The position was an
eminently serious one, and what those on board the yacht had to decide
was what should be done.

"If she's a Russian, we're in no end of a hole," said MacAndrew; "and,
when you come to think of it, she's scarcely likely to belong to any
other nationality."

"Let us come into the smoking-room and talk it over," replied Browne;
and as he spoke he led the way into the room he mentioned. Once
inside, they seated themselves, and fell to discussing the situation.

"We'll presume, for the sake of argument, that she is Russian," began
Browne. "Now what is to be done? Mr. M'Cartney," he added, turning to
the chief-engineer, "what was the cause of the breakdown in your
department?"

"A bit of foul play, if I know anything about such things," replied the
other. "Early this morning, or last night, somebody removed the main
crosshead-pin of the high-pressure engine."

"With what result?" inquired Browne.

"That we're as helpless as a log, sir," answered the chief-engineer.
"Until it has been replaced it would be useless for us to attempt to
get any steam out of her."

"But surely you have some duplicate pins," said Browne a little
testily. "Why not put one in, and then let us get ahead again without
further loss of time?"

"For the simple reason, sir, that all the duplicates have been taken
too," the old man returned. "Whoever worked the plot must have the run
of the ship at his fingers'-ends. I only wish I could lay my hands
upon him, that's all. I'd make him smart, or my name's not M'Cartney."

"Surely such an important point can easily be ascertained," remarked
Maas. "Will you leave it to me to make inquiries?"

"Oh, don't you trouble," responded Browne. "I sh