behaved under the strain to which he
subjected her as though she had been very strongly built.

"By the mark eight," chimed the leadsman on the port side.

That was water enough to float a seventy-four, and there was no let-up
in the speed. In fact, it would not have been convenient to reduce the
speed while the guard-boat could be at no great distance from the flying
steamer. This was the report for the next mile at least, and Christy
felt that the enemy was at a safe distance from him.

"And a half six!" shouted the port leadsman, with energy, as though he
understood the effect his report would produce.

Christy rang to slow her down. The depth of water was the only directory
he had in addition to the distance run, which was very indefinite
without a knowledge of the speed of the vessel.

"By the mark six!" shouted the port leadsman, who was on the side
nearest to the island of Santa Rosa.

This did not induce the pilot to take any further action, and the Teaser
continued on her course at less than half speed. Christy looked at his
watch by the light of the binnacle lamps. It was half-past eleven,
and the Teaser appeared, as well as he could calculate it, with the
necessary allowances, to have made at least sixteen knots on the run
from the sound channel.

"And a quarter five!" cried the leadsman of the land side.

Christy spoke to Sampson through the tube, and the result was a further
reduction in the speed of the steamer, Beeks, who was at one side of
the wheel while the lieutenant was at the other, seemed to be a little
nervous as the depth diminished; and if he had spoken his thought, he
would have expressed his surprise that his superior officer was running
the steamer so near the shore, with the apparent intention of going
still nearer.

"Mark under water three!" yelled the leadsman on the port side, while
the one on the starboard gave "By the mark four."

"Shoaling fast," said Beeks.

"Yes; but as expected," replied Christy.

"Steamer, ahoy!" shouted a voice on the port side.

"On shore!" replied Christy promptly.

"What steamer is that?" demanded the shore speaker.

"The Teaser, prize to the United States ship Bellevite," answered the
lieutenant.

"Boga-hobble-good!" continued the man on shore.

"Rabble-gabble-weed!" responded Christy.

"There's a Chinaman on shore there; but I am glad you speak his
language," said Beeks, trying to repress his laughter.

"You are all right as to positio