els the
propellers reversed.

"Good night!" says I. "Pinched on the high seas!"

I didn't waste much time except to throw on a few clothes; but, at
that, I finds Auntie scrabblin' out ahead of me and Captain Killam
already on deck. She's a picturesque old girl, Auntie, in a lavender
and white kimono and a boudoir cap to match; and Rupert, in blue
trousers and a pajama top, hardly looks like a triple-plated hero.

"Nabbed!" gasps Rupert, starin' over the rail, at a gray gunboat that's
just roundin' in towards us. It's the _Petrel_, sure enough.

"The idea!" says Auntie. "They were shooting at us, too, weren't they?
Of all things!"

Then up pads Old Hickory in a low-necked silk dressin'-gown, with his
gray hair all rumpled and a heavy crop of white stubble on his solid
set jaws.

"Huh!" says he, takin' a glance at the _Petrel_.

That's about all there is to be said, too. For it was odd how little
any of us felt like bein' chatty. We just stood around quiet and
watched the businesslike motions on the _Petrel_ as she stops about a
block off and proceeds to drop a boat into the water.

Projectin' prominent from one of her steel bay windows is a
wicked-lookin' gun about the size of a young water main, and behind it
a lot of jackies squintin' at us earnest. And you know how still it
seems on a boat when the engines quit. I almost jumps when someone
whispers in my ear. It's Vee.

"Now I hope Auntie's satisfied," says she.

"There's no tellin' about her," says I.

Anyway, she wasn't fannin' herself, or sniffin' smellin' salts. I'd
noticed her hail a deck steward, and the next I knew she was spoonin'
away at half a grapefruit, as calm as you please. Mr. Ellins is
indulgin' in a dry smoke. Only Mrs. Mumford, when she finally appears,
does justice to the situation. She rolls her eyes, breathes hard, and
clutches her crochet bag desperate.

The _Petrel_ people were takin' their time about things. After they
got the boat in they had to let down some side stairs, and then the
sailors waited with their oars ready until an officer in a fresh
laundered white uniform gets in and gives the signal to shove off. Our
Captain has the companionway stairs rigged, too, and there ain't a word
passed until the naval gent comes aboard. He's rather a youngish
party, with a round, good-natured face, and he seems kind of amused as
he sizes up our bunch in their early mornin' costumes.

"Pardon me," says he, touchin' his