They were now rapidly overhauling the yacht.  It was with throbbing pulses that Captain Jack Benson steered the “Pollard” up alongside.

CHAPTER XVI

FIGHTING A MUTINY WITH THREATS

Hal Hastings came springing out of the conning tower with a megaphone.

Jack, with a final swing of the wheel, brought the “Pollard” in on a course parallel with the steam yacht, and not more than two hundred feet away from the other vessel’s port rail.

At the same moment Benson rang the signal bell for reduced speed, so that the sterns of the two craft were kept almost on a line with each other.

“Ahoy, yacht!” bellowed the commander, through the megaphone.  “Any trouble aboard?”

“Mutiny!” hoarsely shouted the white-haired man, turning his head only enough to send the word.

“It looks like it,” agreed Commander Ennerling.  “We are United States Naval officers, aboard a torpedo boat.  The mutiny must stop.  Shut off your speed, and send a boat over here.  My order is addressed to the mutinous crew.”

Two of the mutineers were hiding behind a mast, three more behind the forward end of the after deck house.  Just how many more there were, could not be clearly made out by those on board the “Pollard,” for some had undoubtedly crouched below the deck bulwarks.

But one man among the mutineers possessed the rough courage to advance to the rail, shouting in a husky voice: 

“You go on your way, and mind your own business, Mr. Navy!”

“Stop that mutiny and submit to your officers,” insisted Commander Ennerling, sternly.  “Do you want us to come aboard and wipe you out to the last man?”

“You can’t board us, from a craft of that kind,” jeered the fellow at the yacht’s rail.

“You’ll find we can, if we have to.”

“Come along, then!”

“Do you realize, my man, that we are United States Naval officers?”

“Not when I can’t see your uniform,” laughed the mutineer, roughly.

“I’m not going to argue with you any more.  I’ve given you my orders.  Do you intend to submit, or will you fight?”

“We’ll fight!” roared the mutineer.  A hoarse cheer went up from his comrades.

“They don’t estimate our fighting power very highly,” muttered Ennerling, in a low tone.  “If they knew the whole truth they’d be still less afraid of us.”

From the mutineer at the rail came another hoarse hail: 

“Shove off and get away, or we’ll rush the crowd aft and wind up the women!  You start a fight if you think you can.  If you know you can’t, then get away.  We’re not afraid until we’re killed.”

Now, eight mutineers, in all, lined across the deck, each man showing a revolver.

“Humph!  We’ve got to fight—­and can’t!” muttered Commander Ennerling, in great disgust.

“We can save those women,” muttered Jack Benson, “if they’ve the nerve to help themselves be saved.”