CHAPTER XXVII.
THE DERELICT
“They don’t seem to be following us now,” observed Ned, after they had watched the tug continuing on her course.
“No, it looks as if they were taking another tack,” said Maurice De Vere. “I wonder if he can have private information as to the location of the brig? If he has he may get ahead of me and discover her first.”
“I don’t believe he has,” was Jerry’s opinion. “I think he is on a blind search, just as we are.”
“I hope so. It means a great deal to me to find that derelict.”
“What had we better do?” asked Bob. “Can’t we get ahead of him in some way?”
“I know of no other way than to cruise about until we find the brig,” replied Mr. De Vere. “It is only a chance, but luck may favor us first. That is all we can hope for.”
All that day they cruised fruitlessly about, and the next day was equally barren of result.
“I’m afraid you’ll think we’re not very good derelict hunters,” remarked Jerry on the morning of the third day after the storm, when they took an observation, and saw nothing but a vast extent of water. The weather was calm, the sun shone brightly and the Ripper was making good time.
“No,” was the answer. “It isn’t your fault. This was in the nature of an experiment, and I do not expect immediate results. I figured on being three weeks on this search, and we have only spent about a third of that time. We are yet on the safe side, although I admit it is rather disappointing.”