“I see it,” rejoined the inventor, “it is a vessel of some sort.”
“And without lights,” said Midshipman Stark; “as naval officers we ought to give them a warning, sir.”
“What do you say, Lockyer?” asked the officer; “shall we overhaul them and give them a surprise?”
“By all means,” was the answer; “this craft was built for duty on the high seas, you know.”
“Hand me out the night glasses, Strong, will you,” said the inventor; “there’s a strange sail ahead.”
“It’s a schooner, all right, and a fast one, too,” said Mr. Lockyer the next instant. Lieutenant Parry and the midshipman soon confirmed this judgment. A great spire of dark canvas was now visible against the night.
“Better bear up on her, Strong,” ordered the naval officer; “schooners without lights in these waters are a menace to navigation.”
Ned could see the dim outline of this strange craft through the lenses, and at once spun his wheel over and headed for the dark boat.
“Schooner, ahoy!” shouted Lieutenant Parry, as they came within hailing distance; “where are your lights?”
There was no answer, and the swish of the water under her forefoot, and the creak of the straining rigging, as the sailing craft forged along, were the only sounds that broke the stillness.