As the “Pollard” now ran much closer, those aboard the submarine could hear the yells of rage that came from the yacht’s cabin.

“The safe was unlocked, and the rascals have found out how badly they’ve been sold,” laughed Mr. Lawton.  “But why are you going so close to the yacht?  In their rage, they’ll fight like fiends, and you are unarmed.”

“We shall see what we shall see,” dryly commented the commander, murmuring a few words in Hal Hastings’s ear.

Hal promptly dropped down below.

“Selma ahoy!” hailed Ennerling, when the submarine was once more up with the yacht.

“Get quiet and go to sleep!” shouted back the leader of the mutineers, derisively.

“Under the law you mutineers are pirates,” shouted back the commander, firmly.  “If you don’t surrender we shall be compelled to sink you.”

“Sheer off and forget it!” jeered the mutineer.

“Look here, my man,” bellowed Commander Ennerling, “we’ll have no further nonsense from you.  Surrender, without further parley, or you’ll find our nose pointing at your side hull—­and then there’ll be some fireworks.  You can’t be insolent with the United States Navy.”

Then, leaning over the manhole, Commander Ennerling shouted down: 

“Watch below!”

“Aye, aye, sir!” rose Hal’s voice, clear and strong.

“Pass the word to load the torpedo tube.”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

Next, hailing the “Selma,” Ennerling called: 

“Last hail before trouble!  Do you surrender?”

“No, you sea-lawyer!”

Just a word to Jack from the Naval officer, and the “Pollard” shot ahead of the other craft, then came up and around, going after the yacht on the quarter, nose on.

“I hope this line of business works,” remarked Ennerling, with a dry smile.

“Toot! toot! too-oo-oot!” sounded the yacht’s steam whistle, shrilly.

At the same time her engines reversed.  Another of the mutineers rushed to the rail, waving a white towel.

“In heaven’s name, don’t do it!” he bellowed, hoarsely.

“You surrender, then?” demanded Ennerling, stiffly, though his heart must have bounded with joy.  “Wise men!  We’re not going to put a prize crew aboard.  You’ll have to take the yacht in.  Head about for the coast, taking the course as we signal it.  Don’t try any tricks, or any slowing down of speed.  The least sign of treachery, and we’ll sink you without further warning—­”

“—­if we can do such a trick with compressed air alone,” added Commander Ennerling in a tone heard only by those near him on the platform deck.  “Captain Benson, what is the nearest place on this coast with a police force capable of taking charge of such a crowd.”

“Clyde City is about a thirty-two mile run from here, sir,” Jack answered.  “There’s a harbor police boat there.”

“Then make for Clyde City, please.  I’ll attend to signaling the yacht.”