"No, sir."

"I think I see her," said the officer. "Train your gla.s.s dead abeam to starboard."

"Yes, sir, that's the other dinghy. She's drifting."

"Then something has happened to those men. Lay to, men. Pull for all you're worth. They may be drowning while we are lying here. c.o.xswain, look alive."

"Aye, aye, sir."

The oars. .h.i.t the water as one, and the heavy, sharp-pointed whaleboat sprang away, taking a long leap over the waves with every powerful stroke of the oars.

"Her side is stove in, I think, sir," announced the lookout.

The officer in charge made no reply. He was gazing at the bobbing dinghy through his night gla.s.ses.

"Steady there, c.o.xswain. We don't want to run her down. Come up on the lee side and draw in slowly. She rides as if she were loaded. We shall find men aboard the dinghy, unless I am much mistaken."

They drew alongside slowly.

"Out boat hooks!"

The whaleboat made fast to the drifting dinghy. No sooner had they done so than the officer leaped lightly aboard.

"Here they are. Lend a hand here, men. Be careful you don't upset her. The dinghy is half full of water."

Willing hands quickly transferred Dan Davis and the two Hawaiians to the whaleboat. Dan was half unconscious, while his two prisoners were wholly so.

"Take the dinghy in tow. Pick up the other one on your way, but be quick. Seaman Davis is wounded. I don't know how seriously, but he looks to be in pretty bad shape."

The men needed no further urging. In a few minutes they were on their way back to the ship, towing both small boats behind them.

"There's the other whaleboat, sir," announced the lookout.

"Hail them. Tell them to turn about and return to ship," directed the officer.

The lookout did so.

As they approached the side the battleship's rails were seen to be lined with officers and men. Dan, by this time, was sitting up and the prisoners were coming around slowly.

"Did you get them all?" called the executive officer.

"Yes, sir."

"Are they all right?"

"Pretty well knocked out, sir."

"Pull alongside the starboard gangway. Need any help?"

"No, sir; I think we can manage them. But we need the doctor right away. Seaman Davis is hurt."

"No, no," protested Dan. "I'm all right. I want to report. I'm not a baby, sir."

"I should say you are not."

Dan was permitted to stand up as the whaleboat drew up to the starboard gangway. Waiting until the boat rose on a swell he grasped a stanchion, swinging himself to the platform of the gangway by sheer grit, for he had little strength left. He poised on the landing planking, still clinging to the stanchion. A jackie ran down the gangway, extending a helping hand.

"Never mind me. I'm all right, shipmate," said the boy pluckily.

Directing all his strength to the task, the Battleship Boy climbed the gangway. Never before had the stairs seemed so long to him. At last he reached the quarter-deck.

"You are hurt, my lad," exclaimed the captain, starting forward.

"Surgeon, here!"

Dan's face was covered with blood, while the white jacket was stained a deep crimson clear down to his duck trousers.

All at once he started forward unsteadily. He had espied the officer of the deck, the one whose command he had nearly lost his life in obeying.

"Sir, I beg to report that I have overhauled the dinghy and captured the men."

The boy came to attention, saluting stiffly, for it hurt him to raise his hand to his forehead.

"Very good, Seaman Davis."

"Take that man to the sick bay," commanded the captain. "Don't you see that he is barely able to stand on his feet? How about those other men? Are they seriously hurt?"

"I think not, sir," answered the surgeon, who had made a quick examination of the Hawaiians.

"Then give them attention. Master-at-arms, if the surgeon decides that they are fit, lock them in the brig. As soon as all hands are in condition we will have a quick examination."

The islanders proved to be in a more serious condition than had at first been supposed. Acting upon the surgeon's orders, they were taken to the sick bay, where their wounds were dressed and they were put to bed, with a guard placed over them.

Dan's wounds were washed and dressed and his head bandaged. The cut on his forehead where the sharp edge of the oar had struck it was deep and wide, the oar blade having gone clear to the bone, while the lad himself was weak from loss of blood.

"You are lucky that you did not sustain a fracture," decided the surgeon, as, with nimble fingers, he sewed the flesh together. "You will turn in and sleep here to-night."

"I can't do that, sir."

"Why not?"

"I am on the anchor watch, sir. I'm under orders."

"Anchor watch nothing; you'll remain here."

"I am sorry, sir, but I cannot do so until I am relieved at eight bells. If they do not want me on watch they will tell me so. I am all right now. I feel fine."

The surgeon grunted.