, and Ensign MacMasters did not want to take any chances of
collision. So he hailed a fishing smack and put the four friends from
Seacove aboard of her.

"Good-bye, boys!" he said, as they went over the side into the smack.
"We shall meet in a few days. You will get your notice by telegraph when
to join the _Kennebunk_, and where. I shall be relieved from the
command of this shark, and we'll have a big cruise on the
superdreadnaught, I have no doubt."

He spoke prophetically, as it was proved later. But at this time neither
Ensign MacMasters nor any of the four apprentice seamen imagined just
how wonderful a cruise it would be.

As the fishing smack chugged away with her auxiliary engine toward the
docks of the town, the S. P. 888 swung in a narrow circle and put out to
sea so swiftly that in five minutes she was completely out of sight in
the fog and almost out of sound as well.

The fishermen were curious about the boys and the business of the chaser
in this locality; but the Navy boys had long since learned to say
nothing that would circulate information of any moment. "Keep your mouth
closed" is an inflexible rule of the Navy; the yarns Ikey told his
"papa" and his "mama" notwithstanding!

As they drifted in toward shore slowly, weaving their way among the
moored craft, Whistler suddenly began to sniff the air and show
excitement.

"What's the matter?" demanded Torry, his closest chum. "You act like a
hound dog on a hot scent."

"Or a colored gem'man smelling po'k chops on the frypan," suggested
Frenchy, chuckling.

"Say, Mister," asked Whistler, turning to the skipper of the smack, "is
there a tank ship in here?"

"An oil tanker? No! Nothing like it."

"I smell it, too!" exclaimed Ikey suddenly.

"What you boys smell is the _Sarah Coville_ that came in just ahead of
us. She's anchored here somewhere," said the fisherman.

"What sort is she?" Whistler demanded. Then he described swiftly the oil
tender he had marked that afternoon passing the Blue Reef fishing
grounds.

"That's her," said the man. "She often slips in here. Don't know who
owns her now. Used to belong to the Texarcana Oil Company before the
war. She's only a lighter."

"Is she laden?" asked Whistler.

"Didn't look so to me," was the reply.

Whistler Morgan said no more, and he warned his friends to have no
further talk upon the matter. After they got ashore, however, all four
were much excited by the incident.

"She was loaded t