There was something, indeed.
As revealed by the instrument, it was what might be termed a double canoe, or proa––that is, two narrow canoes were joined together, side by side, and connected by a sort of framework, while an enormous lateen sail towered above them, and carried it forward with remarkable speed.
The surprised mate carefully scrutinized the strange craft, and saw that it contained a large crew, there being, as he estimated, fully twenty men on board. It was to the westward of the smaller proa, and like that was pursuing almost a northerly course, though the experienced eyes of the sailor told him that the paths of the two were converging, and that, unless changed, they undoubtedly would meet before nightfall.
The double canoe was about two miles distant, and as it rose on the crest of a swell the glass revealed the white foam which curled away from the bows, and there could be no doubt of its remarkable swiftness.
After watching this strange craft for a few minutes, Mr. Storms devoted some time to a furtive but 226 careful study of the face of Fred Sanders, who was on the most elevated portion of the proa, and was carefully noting the course of the two vessels.
The alarming conclusion reached by Abram Storms was that the other craft contained a gang of pirates; that Fred Sanders knew them, and he was guiding his own proa by an understanding previously had with them.
And Abram Storms was right.