“No; there’s nothing but ‘monkey-wrench’ sailors to be met with nowadays,” came from another “sea-lawyer.”
As they drew closer to the strange vessel, they could make out various odd-looking marks on her sails.
“Crow’s feet!” cried Ned. “Red crow’s feet! What in the name of time is the reason of that?”
On the bridge, officers stood with glasses leveled at the odd craft with the strangely bedezined sails.
A sailor who had formerly sailed in the British navy partially explained the mystery.
“That’s what the Britishers call the broad-arrow’,” he said. “It’s the mark they put on their convicts’ clothes.”
“But what’s that old ship doing with it?” wondered Ned.
“Hullo, look at that lettering on her bows,” cried Herc a few minutes later; “can you make it out?”
“Not yet,” responded his companion, “but we’ll be close enough in a while to read it.”
Not long after, Herc spelled out the inscription on the ship’s bluff bows.