She might be a despatch-boat, or a destroyer, or any one of half a dozen things; but whatever she was, she could help him if she only would.
Close at hand was a jack-staff upholding an American ensign.

Acting upon the impulse of his despair.

Ridge hauled down this flag, and then half-masted it, union down, thus making a signal of distress that called for prompt aid from any vessel sighting it.

Then he gazed eagerly at the swiftly approaching yacht.

She must have noticed his signal, for she was now headed directly for the transport, and Ridge, clinging with one hand to an awning stanchion as he stood on the rail, frantically waved his hat.
Suddenly a bellow of rage close at hand caused him to look in-board.
The Captain of the transport, his face purple with passion, was rushing towards the jack-staff.
"How dare you hoist the signal of a mutiny ?" he howled.