"You have not rung the speed bell, Captain Scott, since you started the screw," suggested Louis.
"I did not intend to do so yet a while," replied the captain. "I want to know what the Fatty is about, as Felix calls her; and I think we had better translate her heathen name into plain English."
"Flix's name would apply better to Uncle Moses and Dr. Hawkes than to the Moorish steamer."
"We had a girl in our high school who bore that name, though she was a full-blooded New Yorker; but the master always insisted upon putting the accent on the first syllable, declaring that was the right way to pronounce it. I know we have always pronounced the word Fat´-ee-may, and that is where Flix got the foundation for his abbreviation."
"Fatty it is, Captain, if you say so. I wonder what the Fatty is about just now?" added Louis.
"Flix will soon enlighten us on that subject, for he has a wonderfully sharp pair of eyes."
"Do you really believe we shall get over to Cyprus, Captain Scott?" asked Louis, looking sharply into the eyes of the navigator.
"Why should we not?"
"Because I don't believe Captain Ringgold intends to turn us loose on the Mediterranean, and let us go it on our own hook, or rather on your own hook; for you are the commander, and all the rest of us have to do is to obey your orders," said Louis; and the little tiff between them had gently and remotely suggested to him that Captain Scott had some purpose in his mind which he would not explain to anybody.
His hint that if he were in command of the Guardian-Mother he would make a hole in the side of the Fatimé, pointed to something of this kind, though probably it was nothing more than a vague idea. He had suggested the plan upon which the ship and her consort were then acting, and perhaps it had some possibility of which the commander had not yet dreamed.