North they went, and east, far out of the course they had laid for New Zealand. For two days and nights the gale held, dying away in the dawn of the third day. The first gray daylight found them tossing on a choppy sea. When the light came, and Zenas Wright was able to figure out their position, he announced that they were somewhere in the neighborhood of the Tubuai Islands, a French possession, and they decided to turn the prow of their boat in the direction of these islands.
Taking the glasses, Polaris climbed a few feet up the mast and swept the sea. He was unable to raise land in any direction.
What he did raise, however, sent him clattering back to the deck.
"A ship!" he cried. "Straight ahead of us, a steamship! I can see her smoke!"
"Look again, lad," said the practical Wright, "and tell us which way her smoke hangs, if you can."
"To the north," Polaris shouted a moment later. "And she's headed this way, too!"
With a splendid disregard for their remaining gasoline, the scientist forced his engine to its best efforts, and they soon were making eighteen knots on their way toward the stranger.
Nearer and nearer came the two craft together, and finally those on the launch saw the steamship swing off her southerly course and point straight toward them.
They had been sighted.
Suddenly Polaris, who had been studying the approaching ship through the glasses, threw them down and sent up a great shout: