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“Captain, lower away a boat, and land our young pilot.”

“Oh, sir, there’s no need of that, for I am all wet anyhow, and it’s a short swim ashore.” And before a hand could stay him the young pilot sprang upon the rail of the yacht and leaped head first into the dark waters of the little bay.

The startled cry of General Peyton at the youth’s bold act brought Commodore Lucien, the Secretary, and others upon the deck in some alarm.

“That fearless lad has leaped overboard and is swimming ashore, Mr. Secretary,” he explained.

“Ahoy! ahoy! my lad!” shouted Commodore Lucien.

“Ay, ay, sir!” came back in the clear voice of the young pilot.

“Hail us when you reach shore, so we may know that you are all right!” called the commodore.

“Ay, ay, sir.”

“That boy is all right, Peyton, so there is no need of sending a boat after him,” the commodore said.

“He’s half fish,” growled the captain of the yacht.

Then all waited breathlessly, and soon came a faint hail:

“Ahoy! the yacht!”

“Ay, ay!” answered Commodore Lucien.