“Give me the glasses, Metcalf.”
The captain took the binoculars.
“Yes, you’re right; there’s a man on board. But how long he will keep afloat, I don’t know. Lucky the sea is calm.”
“You may well say that, sir. In my opinion, whatever he is standing on is due to sink before long.”
“My opinion, too. But hullo, what is that coming up over the horizon there?”
“That smoke, sir? That must be the City of Mexico.”
“Yes, you’re right, it is. I can see her masts now. She’s coming up fast.”
“We don’t want to let her beat us, sir.”
“No, indeed; signal below for more speed.”
Mr. Metcalf jerked the engine-room telegraph. A quickened impulse of the steel hull followed. Inky smoke rolled in volumes from the two funnels of the big ship. Never had she gone faster. Under the forced draught in the sweating stokeholds below, the firemen toiled desperately. Steam screeched from the ’scape pipes in a constant roar, testifying to the big head of power being carried in the ship’s boilers.