sts and a dun funnel that came
rolling out from behind Eggemoggin and bore toward him up the reach.
He was too old a sailor not to know that she was the patrol cutter
of the revenue service; wind and sea forced him to keep on across
her bows.

She slowed her engines and swung to give him a lee. Cap'n Sproul swore
under his breath, cursed aloud at his patient rowers, and told them
to keep on. And when these astonishing tactics of a lonely dingy in
a raging sea were observed from the bridge of the cutter, a red-nosed
and profane man, who wore a faded blue cap with peak over one ear,
gave orders to lower away a sponson boat, and came himself as coxswain,
as though unwilling to defer the time of reckoning with such
recalcitrants.

"What in billy-be-doosen and thunderation do you mean, you
weevil-chawers, by not coming alongside when signalled--and us with
a dozen wrecks to chase 'longshore?" he demanded, laying officious
hand on the tossing gunwale of the dingy.

"We're attendin' strictly to our own business, and the United States
Govvument better take pattern and go along and mind its own,"
retorted Cap'n Sproul, with so little of the spirit of gratitude that
a shipwrecked mariner ought to display that the cutter officer glared
at him with deep suspicion.

"What were you mixed up in--mutiny or barratry?" he growled. "We'll
find out later. Get in here!"

"This suits me!" said Cap'n Sproul, stubbornly.

The next moment he and his Portuguese were yanked over the side of
the boat into the life-craft--a dozen sturdy chaps assisting the
transfer.

"Let the peapod go afloat," directed the gruff officer. "It's off
the _Polyhymnia_--name on the stern-sheets--evidence enough--notice,
men!"

"I'm not off the _Polyhymnia_," protested Cap'n Sproul, indignantly.
"I was goin' along 'tendin' to my own business, and you can't--"

"Business?" sneered the man of the faded blue cap. "I thought you
were out for a pleasure sail! You shut up!" he snapped, checking
further complaints from the Cap'n. "If you've got a story that will
fit in with your crazy-man actions, then you can wait and tell it
to the court. As for me, I believe you're a gang of mutineers!" And
after that bit of insolence the Cap'n was indignantly silent.

The cutter jingled her full-speed bell while the tackle was still
lifting the sponson boat.

"They're ugly, and are hiding something," called the man of the faded
cap, swinging up the bridge-ladder. "No good t