He walked over to where the mate stood, close to the wheelhouse, giving directions to the pilot of the Rainbow.

“Mr. Carey, where are we bound?” he asked, respectfully.

“Oh, just going to take a little sail around, to test the engine,” was the apparent indifferent answer.

“Is the engine out of order?”

“Not exactly, but I thought it best to test the shaft.  The assistant engineer thinks it is weak.”

This was apparently a fair enough answer and Fred bowed and walked away.  Then he went down the ladder leading to the engine room.  He met Frank Norton coming up.  There was a look of concern on the head engineer’s honest face.

“Mr. Norton, is there anything wrong with the engine or the shaft?” asked Fred.

“Nothing the matter.  Why?”

“Mr. Carey said there was, and he is taking a cruise around to test them—­so he says.”

“I don’t understand it, Garrison.  Everything 0.K.”

“Are you in charge now?”

“No, this is my hour off.  Bossermann is in charge.  By the way, I see Powell went off after the others.”

“Yes, and I wish the others were back,” answered Fred. He hesitated a moment.  “Mr. Norton, I believe you have been with Captain Barforth a long time and that you and he are old chums.”

“That’s right.”

“Then I can trust you, can’t I?  It is something which concerns Captain Barforth and this vessel very much.”

“Sure you can trust me.”

Without hesitation, for he felt sure Norton was both honest and reliable, Fred told his story to the head engineer, who nodded many times during the recital.

“I see it,” whispered Norton.  “I suspected something was wrong.  Carey and Bossermann are in some sort of a plot with this Wingate, who came on board solely to aid that Sid Merrick.  I believe Carey is going off to meet Merrick and see if he can make a deal with him.”

“That is what I think.  How can we thwart him?”

“Better fire that gun, as a signal to those on shore, first of all.  Then we’ll see what the mate has to say.”

Fred needed no urging and soon he brought up a shotgun from the cabin and discharged it—­the signal heard by Songbird, as we already know.  Scarcely had this been accomplished when Asa Carey rushed down upon him from the pilot house.

“Hi! what did you do that for?” roared the mate, in sudden anger.

“Just for fun,” answered Fred, as coolly as he could, although his heart beat rapidly.

“For fun?”

“Yes.  Haven’t I a right to fire a gun if I want to?”

“I reckon that was some sort of a signal for those on shore.”

“And supposing it was, what then, Mr. Carey?” Fred put the question boldly and looked the mate squarely in the eyes as he spoke.

“Why—­er—­it’s most unusual.  There was no need of a signal.”

“I wanted them to know we were moving, that’s all.”