Then a youth was seen to climb on the piles at the corner of the wharf. He stood up straight and cried:
“Ahoy, the yacht!”
“Ay! ay!” answered Frank, giving the wheel over to Hodge.
“Is that the White Wings?”
Those on the wharf could not see the name on the stern of the yacht.
“It is.”
“Frank Merriwell in command?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you going to stop at Belfast?”
“We are.”