"And I," added Dan. They gazed long and searchingly. "I was in hopes we would run in and anchor there."
"The captain is making for some other place. We are grinding along at a nineteen-knot gait. That ought to bring us up somewhere about to-morrow night."
"Have you any idea where?"
"Yes; I've got an idea, but I guess you had better figure it out for yourself."
After mess that night Dan got out a map and studied it carefully, after having stolen a glance at the standardized compass high up on the after part of the superstructure.
"I believe we are headed for Gibraltar," he said to himself.
"You've guessed it, lad," said the mate, coming up behind him. "I thought you'd get your course figured out. It's better for a man to get in the habit of looking those things up for himself. He doesn't forget them when he gets them that way."
That night the Battleship Boys turned in full of anticipation. They were heading into strange seas. There was hope that they soon would have an opportunity to go ashore and see something of the people and the life that thus far they knew only from the books they had read.
The first thing in the morning, after getting their baths and dressing, the boys ran out on deck. There, looming faintly through the morning mist, the mighty rock of Gibraltar rose from the sea.
"I see it," breathed Dan Davis, in a tone that was almost awe. "That is Gibraltar, Sam."