The boys made no answer, but stood looking in silence. Every minute the glare lessened; then the sun rose, and as it ascended above the horizon, the form of the strange ship became fully revealed.
It was a ship apparently of considerable size; but her hull was low down in the water, and only her masts were visible. She seemed to lie below the horizon, yet was as plain to the eye as though she had been only five miles away.
“Well, boys,” said Bruce, at length, “I don’t know how you feel, but for my part I feel like taking the boat and going off to her at once. I’m sick of this fare, and should like to get a good breakfast. What do you think, captain?”
Captain Corbet shook his head.
“Wal,” said he, “I don’t exactly seem to see my way clear to approvin of you takin a row for such a matter as twenty mile or so. We’d never see you again.”
“Twenty miles!” exclaimed Bruce. “Why, it doesn’t look like more than two.”
The captain smiled.
“Why, you can’t see more of her than her masts,” replied Captain Corbet; “and a ship that’s down below the horizon far enough to hide her hull is a pooty good distance off—twenty mile, at least.”
At this Bruce was silent. Captain Corbet’s remarks were unanswerable, and he did not yet feel prepared to row so great a distance as twenty miles.
At length Bart went to the cabin, and returned with a spy-glass. This instrument did not belong to Captain Corbet, for the venerable navigator was strongly prejudiced against any such instruments, and the dimmer his eyes grew, the stronger grew those prejudices. It belonged, in fact, to Bruce, who had provided himself with it before leaving home. Armed with this, Bart took a long look at the stranger. Then he passed the glass to Bruce, and then all the boys, in turn, took a look.