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Nat's face darkened into a scowl of black rage, and he cursed

under his breath. It was just his luck, he told himself, that

when he was about to triumph, some of these government loafers

should come along and take the credit out of his hands.

For a moment he thought of resistance. All his crew were on deck,

drawn by curiosity. But he saw they were vastly impressed by the

discipline of the visitors and by their decidedly warlike

appearance. If he resisted there would be blood spilt, and he did

not like the thought of that. He finally admitted to himself that

the young officer was only carrying out orders, and orders that

were absolutely just.

"Well, come along!" he snarled ungraciously, and started forward.

The officer spoke a word of command, and the squad marched after

him as he, in turn, followed Nat.