They could now see that she was a large vessel—a liner, to judge from the rows of lighted portholes on her steep black sides. Her bow lights gleamed like the eye of some monster intent on devouring the Flying Fish and her occupants. On and on she came. The air trembled with the vibration of her mighty engines, and a great white "'bone" foamed up at her sharp prow.
Not one of the boys spoke as the vessel came nearer and nearer, although it speedily grew evident that unless a wind sprang up or the lookout saw them, it was inevitable that they would be cut in two amidships.
"Remember what I said," warned Tubby, in a strange, strained voice. "Dive deep and stay tinder as long as you can."
And now the great vessel seemed scarcely more than two or three boat lengths from the tiny cockleshell on which she was bearing down. As a matter of fact, though, her towering bulk made her appear much nearer than she actually was.
"Can't we do anything, Merritt?" gasped Hiram, with chattering teeth. "We might try shouting once more," suggested Tubby in a voice that quivered in spite of his efforts to keep it steady.
"All together now—come on!"
"Ship ahoy! You'll run us down! St-eam-er a-hoy!"
Suddenly there were signs of confusion on the bow of the big vessel. Men could be seen running about and waving their arms.
"By hookey, they've seen us!" breathed Merritt, hardly daring to believe it, however.
The others were speechless with suspense.