its summons to halt; but the stranger paid no heed.

A solid shot, well elevated, had as little effect. By this time the
despatch-boat was rushing ahead at full speed in the direction the
unknown steamer was supposed to have taken. Suddenly her search-light,
sweeping the black waters with a broad arc of silver, disclosed a
shadowy bulk moving swiftly at right angles to the course they were
taking, and heading for a beacon blaze that had sprung up on the
starboard or in-shore hand.

"Port your helm!" cried Captain Boldwood. "Mr. Comly, try to disable
her. Make every shot tell if possible."

Again and again the six-pounder hurled its messenger of destruction,
but apparently without effect.

"Looks as though I couldn't hit the side of a barn at a hundred feet,"
muttered the Ensign to Ridge, who stood beside him, thrilled by the
novel experience. Then he sighted his gun for a third shot, sprang
back, and jerked the lanyard. A flash, a roar, a choking cloud of
smoke, and then a yell from the _Speedy's_ crew. In the glare of the
search-light the fugitive steamer was seen to take a sudden sheer, that
a minute later was followed by a crash, and then she remained
motionless.

Instantly the _Speedy_ was slowed down and moved cautiously towards the
wreck, with busy lead marking soundings every few seconds. The beacon
for which the chase had steered no longer blazed; but in a few minutes
the search-light disclosed a wooded shore.