"Sink me, I 'ope I ain't a copyin' pore ole Watts, but if that wasn't Hozier's voice I'm goin' dotty." "It's all right, skipper," said Philip, sending the catamaran ahead with a mighty sweep.

"Miss Yorke is here--Captain San Benavides, too.
I was sure you would look for us if you cleared the harbor safely." Then Coke proclaimed his sentiments in the approved ritual of the high seas, while the big Norseman at the oars swung the boat's head round until both craft were traveling in company to the waiting launch.

But before anything in the nature of an explanation was forthcoming from the occupants of either the boat or the catamaran, a broad beam of white light swept over the crest of the island from north to south.

It disappeared, to return more slowly, until it rested on Rat Island, at the extreme northwest of the group.

It remained steady there, showing a wild panorama of rocky heights and tumbling sea.
"A search-light, by G--d!" growled Coke.
"Then there really _was_ a warship," murmured Iris.
"Ha!" said San Benavides, and his tone was almost gratified, for he had gathered that Hozier was skeptical when told of the rockets.