It was several days before Jack was able to get about the ship with his accustomed alacrity; and then the Lena was well out of African waters, steaming up the coast of Portugal—the English channel and London now not far away.
Jack had now resumed command of the ship, and the boys, standing together on the bridge one fine morning, were congratulating themselves upon the success of the voyage, when from the lookout came a cry:
"Cruiser off the starboard bow, sir?"
"How is she headed?" demanded Jack.
"Coming right this way, sir."
"Can you make her out?"
"Not yet, sir."
"Let me know as soon as you can," was Jack's command.
It was fully half an hour later, and the cruiser was not yet plainly discernible to the naked eye, when the lookout called:
"She's British, sir."