A half hour later Jack and Ned were fast asleep, dreaming of those stirring times when the immortal Abraham Lincoln was President of this glorious nation.
The next week the Columbia sailed again. As she passed out of New York harbor, and past Sandy Hook, the passengers crowded to the rail to look at a beautiful sea picture.
The sun was setting, and the radiance turned to gold the white sails of a beautiful bark outward bound. As she heeled over on the starboard tack, it was evident that she would pass close to the steamer. From the wireless room Jack Ready and Billy Raynor watched the pretty sight with more interest, perhaps—certainly it was so in Jack's case—than anyone else on board.
"It's the Silver Star, Jack, Captain Dennis's ship," said Billy.
Jack nodded.
"I know it," he answered. "She sailed this morning. I've been on the lookout for her all the way down the bay."
There was silence between the two chums. The Silver Star, gliding swiftly through the water, came steadily on. As the steamer passed her, she was quite close, looking like a beautiful toy from the towering decks of the Columbia.
"Look!" exclaimed Billy, half in a whisper, as her ensign fluttered down in salute and then climbed upward to the peak again. A booming roar from the Columbia's siren acknowledged the compliment.
But Jack had no eyes for this. His gaze was fixed on the stern deck of the Silver Star, where, by her steering-wheel, gripped by two stalwart seamen, stood an upright old man, with glasses bent on the Columbia. A graceful girl was at his side. Jack saw her wave, and was waving frantically back, when there came an insistent summons from the wireless room.