He was right, the captain was coming up in company with Rosenvischpoff
and two sailors. The Russian petty officer opened the door of the pen
and Captain Ponsberry was thrust inside. Then the door was locked as
before.

"How are you, boys?" cried the captain, cordially. "All well, I hope."

"We are," answered Grandon. "And you?"

"I'm well enough, but still angry to think that we lost the _Columbia_."

"So are we angry," said Larry. "But we've got to stand it. What's that
noise?"

"They have sighted a Chinese junk, and I reckon they are going to treat
her as they did our vessel," answered the captain.

The noise on deck continued, followed by quarter of an hour of silence.
Then came a shot, followed by a second and a third.

"Another order to lay-to," said Larry. "Wonder if the Chinamen will give
in as we did?"

"They will if they are wise," said Grandon.

But the Chinamen did not believe in surrendering thus easily. They were
carrying rice for the Japanese army, and thought that this was known to
the enemy. Consequently they did their best to sail away.

Hardly had the craft started on a new course when the _Pocastra_ opened
a direct fire upon her. The noise below decks was deafening and fairly
shook the iron pen in which our friends were confined.

"Hullo, that sounds like real war!" cried Larry. "They mean business
now."

One broadside was followed by another, and the Chinese junk was raked
from end to end with such a deadly fire that more than a sixth of the
sailors and officers were killed. Then the captain flung a white flag to
the breeze in token of surrender.

"We have won!" cried those on the _Pocastra_, and it was not long before
our friends understood. Small boats were put out, and presently half a
dozen Chinese officers from the junk were brought on board as prisoners.
A fire that had started on the prize ship was put out after some hard
work; and then a temporary crew was put on board, and the junk followed
in the wake of the old _Columbia_, with the warship keeping guard over
both.

CHAPTER XIV

PROGRESS OF THE WAR

An hour after the capture of the Chinese junk one of the officers of the
ill-fated craft was thrust into the prison pen with our friends.

He was a small sallow-eyed Celestial rejoicing in the name of Won Lung,
and it was soon learned that he could speak a little English, he having
once paid a visit to San Francisco.

"All go up spout!" said he, referring to his