snapped out Merritt; "I _saw_----"

"Saw what?" demanded Lieutenant Duvall.

"A face peering at us over that transom. It dodged into the darkness as
I looked up, but I saw it as plain as daylight."

Both officers bent forward almost breathlessly. Merritt's communication
appeared to affect them strangely.

"What kind of a face was it?" demanded Ensign Hargreaves.

"A wild looking one. Very pale, and fringed with dark whiskers."

The effect on the officers was electrical. They both sprang up and made
for the door followed by the puzzled Scouts.

"Was--was it anyone you know?" demanded Rob, as he paced beside
Lieutenant Duvall.

"Yes. From the description it was Berghoff, the spy of a powerful
European nation whose ambition it is to outgeneral all other powers on
the sea. We must apprehend him if possible. It is only too clear that he
followed us here from Washington and must have heard a great part of our
conversation."

"Phew! This is action with a capital A!" gasped Rob as they ran down the
stairway and out into the lighted street.

But although a rigorous search was made and all trains watched, no trace
was found of Nordstrom Berghoff, the naval spy. It was surmised that he
must have made good his escape in a speedy "roadster" car in which he
had crept into Hampton earlier in the evening.

CHAPTER III.

AN OCEAN DERELICT.

"What's that object off on the starboard bow, sir?"

It was a week after the events narrated in the preceding chapters, and
the _Seneca_, a converted gun-boat fitted with torpedo tubes for the
destruction of derelicts, was plowing her way southward through an azure
sea under a cloudless sky.

Rob Blake asked the question. In full Boy Scout Leader's uniform, and
wearing the different badges to which he was entitled, the young chief
of the Eagles stood on the _Seneca's_ bridge with Ensign Hargreaves and
Lieutenant Murray, who were in command of the destroyer.

"Jove, lad, you have sharp eyes!" exclaimed Lieutenant Murray. "Even the
lookout has not yet spied it. Let's see what it may be. Possibly it's
our 'meat'--food for our torpedoes."

"In that case the boys are in for a bit of excitement," said Ensign
Hargreaves.

"You think it is a derelict!" exclaimed Rob. "Oh, boys!" he called down
to the shady deck below, where the other lads lay reading or writing
letters or studying the Scout Manual, "we've sighted a derelict."

"An ocean hobo, eh?" hailed back Merritt.

"Hol