We've been hitting up a pretty good pace."
"We've got a long ways to go yet. There's Pascagoula over there on the
starboard side now. We ran some little distance to the east."
"Sail ho," sung out Charley who was keeping a lookout from the top of
the pilot house. "I see a man in a row boat."
"Where away?" asked Jack.
"Almost dead ahead! He's not rowing very hard."
"How shall I head to pick him up?" Jack questioned.
"Just a trifle to starboard. There. Steady as she goes."
In a short time the Fortuna driven by her powerful engines came up to
the rowboat. As the boys approached the lone occupant of the skiff all
were eager to see who it might be.
"Some early morning fisherman," ventured Arnold.
"He isn't fishing," declared Harry. "He's resting on his oars."
Harry now mounted to the pilot house roof and took the glasses.
"I know that chap," he cried. "Better starboard your helm and go to port
of him. We don't want to get any closer to that chap."
"Who is it, Harry?" asked Jack.
"Little Simple Simon Sorefooted Carlos Madero at your service."
"He got run over once by getting in the way of this vessel. I wonder if
he's trying it again," mused Jack, holding the Fortuna on her course.
"We've got crew enough now so that we can mount guard over him day and
night if we want to. Let's pick him up and see what he knows. We can
easily tow his skiff along."
"Sure! Let's pick up a shark or two! Let's explode some dynamite in the
cabin.
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