“She’s coming in!”
“They must be seeing our signals!”
“Hurrah! I wonder what sort of a vessel she is?”
“Perhaps she’s another rum-runner,” came from Fred.
“Oh, Fred, don’t say that!” exclaimed Andy.
“Well, you can’t tell, Andy. We must be right in the path of that kind of a ship. So many of them run from the West Indies to the United States.”
“Look, look!” cried Jack, in sudden dismay. “She is turning away again.”
“That’s right. She is steering due east!” added Randy, with something like a groan.
Another five minutes passed, and then all of the boys, as well as the lanky sailor, came to the conclusion that the bark was moving eastward. Frantically the lads continued their signaling, and saw to it that the clouds of smoke from their fire continued. But if the signals were seen, no one paid any attention to them, and presently the bark, far to the eastward, was but a speck in the distance on the bosom of the rolling ocean.