t on
board the ship.

In a few moments the Lieutenant turned to Ned, a smile of victory on his
lips.

"Well," he said, "your career as a pirate has been brought to a sudden
close."

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Ned.

The question was a natural one, but was entirely unnecessary, for the
boy knew what was meant--knew on what desperate chance the lives of
himself and his friends rested.

"I mean," answered the Lieutenant, "that you are under arrest for piracy
on the high seas. Also for deliberate murder. Also for the larceny of
the _Manhattan_ from Manila."

"Very well," Ned replied, coolly, "take me back to Manila for trial. I
am willing to go with you."

"We don't take pirates back to Manila for trial," was the sneering
reply. "We give them a hearing and shoot them down on the spot. I'll
attend to your case directly."

"You've got your nerve!" cried Frank.

The Lieutenant turned with a snarl and pointed the end of his pencil
toward the two boys.

"Put them in irons," he said. "We'll give them a drum-head when we get
the goods out of the _Clara_ and will shoot them at midnight."

The boys made no resistance. That would have been useless, for there
were twenty to one against them.

"And," continued the officer, "send for the relatives of the natives
this man Nestor murdered on Banta Isle. We'll have them for witnesses."

"They attacked me," Ned said, in a second sorry that he had spoken at
all.

"They were ordered to recover the _Manhattan_, property stolen from the
government," was the reply, "and you resisted them. Put a stick in his
mouth, Ben, if he talks any more."

Ben, a muscular, scar-faced fellow of thirty, stepped forward and took a
seat on the rock near the captives. He had the mild, soft eyes of a
student of theology and the square jaw and hard hands of a prize
fighter.

"You're to keep your face closed--see?" he said, nudging Ned in the side
with an elbow. "You're to keep your clapper tied," he went on, "or I'll
tie it up for you. And how in the name of the Seven Seas did you ever
get in such a scrape, Ned Nestor?"

The last words were spoken very softly, but before that Ned had
recognized the man as one he had known and liked on the water front in
New York.

"You're in a bad box," Ben went on, "for that slob means business."

"There's just one chance for us," Ned whispered. "If the rockets are all
right, and the gunboat is not too far away to see the signals!"

CHAPT