"Sail, ho!" shouted Felix, who had been stationed at the bow to do duty as lookout; and the report came just at the moment when the change of helmsman was made.
"Where away?" demanded the captain.
"Dead ahead, sir," replied the lookout. "It is a steamer, and she is just coming around the point in front of us. Mind your eye, or she will run into us!" he shouted with a good deal of energy.
"Port the helm!" said Captain Scott sharply, as he went forward to the bow to obtain a better view of the approaching vessel.
The steamer was an elegant craft as she presented herself to the vision of the big four who were on the forecastle and in the pilot-house. She had just put her helm to starboard, and was rounding in so as to obtain a position in front of the city. As she turned a view of her ensign was obtained, and it was the red flag of Morocco, with what looked like a pair of curious shears in the middle of it, something like a pair of cimeters crossed.
"Just as sure as ye's live and braythe, it's the Fatty!" exclaimed Felix, beginning to be quite excited.
"It certainly looks like her," added Louis from the pilot-house.
"I can go a point farther than either of you, for I know she is the Fatimé," added Captain Scott. "Keep her off more, Louis!"
The Fatimé was the steam-yacht of Ali-Noury Pacha, a very wealthy and distinguished Moor, who had visited the Guardian-Mother when she was at Mogadore, and who had been so fascinated by the beauty and grace of Blanche that he became very disagreeable to the whole party. The ship had left that port at a very early hour in the morning to avoid meeting him again; but he had followed her to Madeira, where she had again run away from him.
The Pacha seemed to be desperately in earnest; for he pursued the party to Gibraltar, though the Guardian-Mother dodged him, and made a long trip in the waters of Europe. But the distinguished Moor had evidently made his usual yacht trip in the Mediterranean, and Captain Ringgold apprehended no further interference from him.