"Did he eat it?" asked the Skipper.
"No, sir, not yet," said I. "He'd just had his dinner."
The Skipper did not seem to listen to my answer. He handed the glass to me and pointed seaward.
"Don't like the looks of that vessel out there, Jones. She's been crawling up on us for the last hour. Looks as if she was trying to head us off. About three points forward of the beam now, I should say. Isn't this vessel off her course, Jones?"
He walked over to the binnacle, and took a look at the compass.
"No, you're right. But we certainly are farther in shore than I expected we would be. Head her up, man, head her up!"
"Tomkins had the wheel while I was below," said I. "He said he kept her just as you told him. That stranger's flying the English flag." The Skipper shook his head, looked at the Union Jack, and then over the side of the Yankee Blade.
"Didn't know there was any currents around here. Strange! Strange!"
Cynthia stood sniffing and wrinkling up her handsome nose.