"Sure, I get you, old man," he replied after closer scrutiny of the water. "Now I see it, sure as guns. About two points off the starboard quarter. What in the world is it?" he continued, shading his eyes with cupped hands the better to focus on the object.
"Blamed if I know," answered Jay. "Wait a minute. I'll run down to quarters and get the glasses."
Off he dashed with Fismes at his heels, leaving his chum standing at the rail. In a moment he was back with a burnished pair of binoculars which, once adjusted, he trained on the floating object in the sea.
"Just what I doped it to be," affirmed Jay after one long look. "A masthead bobbing up and down in the water. Some old battered hulk of a ship that has sailed its last long voyage, sure as you are born."
Dick reached for the glasses. "Let's have a look," he requested.
Jay extended the binoculars, and it took only one hurried glance on the part of his chum to corroborate the former's surmise.
"Guess you're right, pal," confirmed Dick. "A derelict loose in the pathway of ocean traffic. Some one of the vessels belonging to the allied nations probably sunk by one of the German submarines during the war. Gone to her last resting-place in the salty brine."
After studying the derelict for several minutes the two ensigns hurried off to the executive officer of the Leviathan to report their find. They found him, too, with glasses examining the derelict.
"Beg pardon, sir, but we thought perhaps you hadn't seen it," said Jay deferentially.
The officer nodded a smiling assent. He was busy taking the latitude and longitude of the wreck to report to maritime quarters in New York and London by wireless. No use stopping, for nothing could be done; the derelict would float until some salvage crew came to blow it up or take it in tow—a menace to all shipping traveling this way.