"Call him Gritty," suggested Henry Darby, "for he has some of Grit's grit to live all that while in the open boat."
"Gritty it shall be," decided Dick. "I wonder where he came from, and how the dinghy got adrift?"
"It's a boat from some fishing vessel," said Captain Barton, when the craft that had contained the puppy was hoisted aboard and examined. It had no name on, and was rather battered and old. "It must have gone adrift, for the end of the painter is frayed, as though it was chafed through. Probably the dog was asleep in it when it drifted off," added the commander.
"Well, he's a new member of the crew," said Dick. "Here, Hans, give my puppy some quail on toast, or beefsteak smothered in onions. He's hungry."
"I gif him some veak soup—dot's vot he needs vurst," decided the big German cook, picking up the half-starved animal, and carrying it off to the galley. Grit followed, with a happy bark. He seemed to have accepted Gritty at once as a friend and companion.
The yacht was gotten under way once more, slipping through the water like some graceful fish, and making better time, for now the new crew was familiar with the engine and boilers, and more speed was being maintained.
What with watching the running of the engines, helping in taking observations, signaling other vessels they passed, and strolling about the deck, Dick and his chums found plenty to occupy their time. The young millionaire and Paul had taken up the study of wireless telegraphy during their last term in Kentfield, and, as the Albatross had an apparatus aboard, the two cadets crackled off several greetings to their friends, while Mr. Hamilton was kept informed of the progress of the yacht, and also sent some messages in answer to those of his son.
The Albatross ran into a storm on the third day out, as she was rounding Cape Hatteras, that always treacherous point on the Atlantic coast, and for a time the boys had all they wanted of sailor life, and a bit more. It was the first time any of them had been seasick, and Henry Darby and Frank Bender were the ones to succumb. Frank was too limp to even move an eyelash, Dick said pathetically as his friend was stretched out in his berth. As for Dick and Paul, they behaved like old sea dogs, and even Tim Muldoon, though it was his first voyage, stood up well under the strain.
The yacht pitched and tossed, now on top of a big green wave, and again sliding down into the trough, as though she was going to the bottom. But she was a staunch craft, and when they had passed the point, with its conflicting currents, the storm had blown itself out, and a period of calm and fog succeeded.
Through the gray, damp mist the Albatross was creeping one afternoon, with her whistle sounding mournfully at regular intervals, and Widdy, and another sailor, stationed in the bow to peer through the blanket of whiteness, to give warning when anything should loom up in front of them.