Mrs. Cliff, who had taken the glass, but could not see through it very well, returned it to the Captain and remarked, "If we can go so much faster than she does, why can't we take Mr. Shirley on board when we catch up to her?"
"I don't know about that," said Burke. "To do that, both vessels would have to lay to and lose time, and she might not want to do it as she's a regular steamer, and carries the mail. And besides, if Shirley's under orders,—that is, the same thing as orders,—to go straight to Jamaica, I don't know that we have any right to take him off his steamer and carry him to Nassau. Of course, he might get to Jamaica just as soon, and perhaps sooner, if he sailed with us, but we don't know it! We may be delayed in some way; there're lots of things that might happen, and anyway, I don't believe in interfering with orders, and I know Shirley doesn't either. I believe he would want to keep on. Besides, we don't really know yet that that's the Antonina."
A couple of hours, however, proved that Captain Burke's surmise had been correct, and it was not long before the two vessels were abreast of each other. The yacht had put on all steam and had proved herself capable of lively speed. As the two vessels approached within hailing distance, Captain Burke went up on the little bridge, with a speaking-trumpet, and it was not long before Shirley was on the bridge of the other steamer, with another trumpet.
To the roaring conversation which now took place, everybody on each vessel who was not too sick, who had no duties, or could be spared from them, listened with the most lively interest. A colloquy upon the lonely sea between two persons, one upon one vessel and the other upon another, must always be an incident of absorbing importance.
Very naturally Shirley was amazed to find it was his friend Burke who was roaring at him, and delighted when he was informed that the yacht was also on its way to Jamaica to meet Captain Horn. After a quarter of an hour of high-sounding talk, during which Shirley was informed of Burke's intention to touch at Nassau, the interview terminated; the Summer Shelter shaping her course a little more to the south, by night-fall the Antonina had faded out of sight on the northeast horizon.
"I shouldn't wonder," said Captain Burke at dinner, "if we got to Jamaica before her anyway, although we're bound to lose time in the harbor at Nassau."
The company at the dinner-table was larger than it had yet been. Five members of the Synod had appeared on deck during the speaking-trumpet conversation, and feeling well enough to stay there, had been warmly greeted and congratulated by Mrs. Cliff. The idea of a formal reception had, of course, been given up, and there was no need of presenting these gentlemen to the Captain, for he had previously visited all of his clerical passengers in their berths, and was thus qualified to present them to Mrs. Cliff as fast as they should make their appearance. At dinner-time two more came into the saloon, and the next morning at breakfast the delegation from the Synod were all present, with the exception of two whose minds were not yet quite capable of properly appreciating the subject of nutrition.
When at last the Summer Shelter found herself in the smoother waters and the warmer air of the Gulf Stream, when the nautilus spread its gay-colored sail in the sunlight by the side of the yacht, when the porpoises flashed their shining black bodies out of the water and plunged in again as they raced with the swiftly moving vessel, when great flocks of flying-fish would rise into the air, skim high above the water, and then all fall back again with a patter as of big rain-drops, and the people on the deck of the Summer Shelter took off their heavy wraps and unbuttoned their coats, it was a happy company which sailed with Mrs. Cliff among the beautiful isles of the West Indies.