“I don’t want to give a false alarm, gentlemen, but what’s that object off there?”
“Where?” demanded Nat. “Give me the glasses, Joe, quick.”
Something in the sailor’s voice had made him alert and active in an instant.
He applied the glasses to his eyes and gazed through them for a few seconds.
“It’s a boat, a rowboat,” he announced after his brief scrutiny.
“Our boat?” asked Joe almost tremulously.
“I think so,” was the reply, as the Nomad’s course was altered and she was headed directly for the distant speck that the sailor’s sharp eyes had espied.
CHAPTER X.
MORE BAD LUCK.
“Oh, thunderation!”