"Yes?"

"We made an observation just now. Well, perhaps an hour and a half ago,
sir."

"What was it?" queried the ensign, with interest.

"A power boat passed us. She was not as long as this chaser and not very
swift. She was steering into the sou'east, and she left a streak of oil
in her wake. She was laden to the guards with oil casks, I believe."

Ensign MacMasters made no comment for a moment; then he got the full
significance of Whistler's meaning and he briskly demanded:

"Sure her casks were filled, Morgan, and not empty?"

"She had a full cargo of something, sir," said Whistler, nodding.

"And headed southeast?"

"Yes, sir."

Mr. MacMasters wheeled to speak to his navigating officer. In thirty
seconds the swift craft started.

"Hold on, Mr. MacMasters!" cried Torry. "We've got to get ashore somehow
for supper, you know."

The ensign smiled at him. "I am afraid you will have to remain aboard
and help eat some of your own fish for supper. No time just now to put