"Sure," agreed the Irish lad. "But nivver a bit can we hilp thot, Frankie."

The first half of the night was wild and boisterous. Near midnight the wind fell somewhat, but it still blew so strong that the _Greyhound_ held on its course.

Toward morning the tempest died out, and sunrise found them rolling helplessly on the long swells, without enough breeze to steady the boat.

Diamond had been sick all through the night, and he was in a pitiable condition, looking pale and weak.

"If I ever get ash.o.r.e, I won't take another cruise for ten years," he faintly declared. "It didn't make much difference to me last night whether we went to the bottom or not. In fact, there was a spell when I rather hoped the old boat would go bottom up, and I'd been glad to take a chance by having her run ash.o.r.e."

"Vale," said Hans, "I feld someding like dot meinself: but I peen petter now. All der same, I pelief I strained me der roots my toenails of, und I vas lame all ofer."

When the breeze rose, after breakfast, Frank set their course due east.

At noon they ran into Monterey Bay and anch.o.r.ed off Santa Cruz.

By that time Diamond had recovered from his sickness and was beginning to take some satisfaction in the life on board the yacht.

Frank felt sure the _Fox_ would run into Santa Cruz, and so he kept watch for her appearance.

It was mid-afternoon when a bark came in from the south and reported seeing at sun rise a small yacht that was in a battered condition, evidently having been in the blow of the previous night. She had lost her mainsail, but seemed to have been prepared for such a misfortune by having an old sail on board, and this her men were setting.

The bark had spoken the yacht and asked if she needed aid, but she declined a.s.sistance. The name of the yacht was the _Fox_.

Barney, who had gone ash.o.r.e, heard this statement, and he made all haste to get on board the _Greyhound_ and report to Frank.

Merriwell was astonished.

"Great Scott!" he exclaimed. "Lord Stanford did not lay to in Half-moon Bay, and the _Fox_ was out in the storm last night. She was used worse than the _Greyhound_, but, instead of being ahead of her, we are still behind! That is an interesting discovery, I must confess! All the same, the loss of her sail has delayed her so she will not have such a great start on us. It's lucky she did not lose all her canvas, or she might be high and dry on sh.o.r.e now."

"What are you going to do?" asked Hodge.

"Do? I am going to get up the anchor and get after the _Fox_ instanter.

I'll catch her if I have to chase her around Cape Horn!"

"That's the _Fox_ sure enough, Frank," declared Bart Hodge, who had been watching the distant sail for some time.

It was three days after the night of the storm, and the _Greyhound_ had entered the Santa Barbara Channel.

In all that time they had not sighted the yacht they were pursuing, although they heard of her several times from vessels they had spoken.

With bulldog tenacity Frank had continued in pursuit of Lord Stanford's boat, and now, at last, he was rewarded by sighting her in the distance.

A steady breeze was blowing from the northwest, and the _Greyhound_ was carrying every st.i.tch of canvas with which she was provided.

"She does not seem to be heading for Santa Barbara, if I am right in my reckoning," said Merriwell, in a puzzled way. "She should be setting her course southeast and she is bearing directly south. I wonder where Stanford is taking Inza and her father? I really do not understand it."

The others were unable to offer a solution for the Englishman's peculiar behavior.

Both boats were running almost dead before the wind, and the _Greyhound_ was able to spread the most canvas, so she gained steadily on the other yacht.

Within an hour she was quite near the _Fox_, which seemed to be heading for a wooded island that lay straight ahead.

The boys could see that the steady manner in which the _Greyhound_ held in pursuit of the boat in advance had created some stir aboard.

Looking through a gla.s.s, Frank saw Lord Stanford come up from below and take a survey of his pursuer. Then one of his men brought him a gla.s.s, and he took a look through that.

Immediately the Englishman grew excited. He turned to the man who had brought the gla.s.s and said something, waving his hand in a manner that betrayed agitation.

"At last he has discovered who is following him," smiled Merriwell. "But it is too late to get away. We are walking up on him in great style."

"An' it's a bit av a shc.r.a.p we're loikely to be in directly," grinned Barney. "Oi don't moind thot at all, at all!"

"You like the prospect, you rascal!" laughed Frank. "Well, I must confess that I do not mind it myself."

Nearer and nearer the _Greyhound_ drew to the _Fox_.

Lord Stanford came aft and shouted to his pursuers.

"Keep off, you blooming duffers! If you come near us you will get into trouble!"

"Ahoy, the _Fox_!" Frank shouted back. "Lay to. I wish to come on board."

"I'll brain you if you try to come over the rail of this yacht!" frothed the excited n.o.bleman.

"You will be sorry if you try that trick," a.s.serted Merriwell. At this moment Inza appeared, hurrying up the companion way and reaching the deck of the _Fox_. She saw Frank on the pursuing boat, and waved her hand to him.

With an exclamation of anger, Lord Stanford hastened to her side, and seemed to be urging her to go below again. It was plain that she refused to do so, and the Englishman grew still more angry.

"Begobs! th' spalpane acts loike he wur goin' to shtrike her!" exclaimed Barney.

"If he does, I'll make him regret the day he was born!" grated Frank.

"Dot vos der stuffs!" nodded Hans; "und you vos der huckleberry to done dot, Vrankie."

The _Fox_ was now on the port quarter of the pursuing yacht, and it was plain the _Greyhound_ would soon weather the other boat. The two yachts were quite near together.

Lord Stanford was seen to suddenly grasp Inza's wrist, as if he thought of forcing her to go below.

Then it was that, without warning, the _Fox_ changed her course to starboard, and the _Greyhound_ crashed into her.

There was a severe shock, a sound of splintering wood and rending sails, and the _Fox_ careened violently, as if she was going over.

"That must be a clumsy lubber at her helm!" cried Frank. "Make fast to her, boys!"

With those words he rushed forward, sprang out on the jib-boom and leaped to the deck of the _Fox_.

A moment later he confronted Lord Stanford, who was still clinging to Inza.

"Break away, you villain!" were the words that shot from Merriwell's lips.