“Ahoy there!” he roared. “Any one aboard the Rosan seen or heard anything of Captain Code 137 Schofield, of the Grande Mignon schooner Charming Lass?”
Code rose out of his chair, took off his hat ironically, and swung it before him as he made a low bow.
“At your service!” he shouted. “I was picked up three days ago, adrift in my dory. What do you want with me?”
This sudden avowal created a half panic aboard the mysterious schooner, and the man astern exchanged his megaphone for field-glasses. After a long scrutiny he went back to the megaphone.
“Congratulations, captain!” came the bellow. “When are you going to rejoin the Lass?”
“As soon the Rosan catches her,” replied Code, and then, exasperated by the unexpected maneuvers of this remarkable vessel, he cried: “Who are you and what do you want that you chase me all over the sea?”
Instantly the man put down the megaphone and gave orders to the crew, and in five minutes she was on her way north into the very heart of the fleet.
“I don’t know who she is or why she is or who is aboard her,” he told Nellie, after recounting to her the previous visitation of the schooner. “She reminds me of a nervous old hen keeping track of a stray chick. Pretty soon I won’t be able to curse the weather without being afraid my guardian will 138 hear me. I say guardian, and yet I don’t know whether she is friendly or merely fixing up some calamity to break all at once. You know I have enemies. She may be working for them.”
The girl could offer no solution, nor could Bijonah Tanner, who had witnessed the incident from the forecastle head where he was smoking and anticipating the wishes of the cod beneath him. He had walked aft, and the three discussed the mystery.
“Ever see her before, captain?” asked Code.