"Yes, we are. We shall not see the coast of France again this year. I'll bet you Fluxion's starboard whisker, our cruise for this season is up."
"Don't croak."
They all croaked when the vessel had been out thirty hours, and was still persistently headed to the south-west. The day wore wearily away, crowded with doubt, anxiety, and perplexity to the runaways. At three in the afternoon, when the starboard watch were on deck, Peaks, by order of Mr. Fluxion, stationed a lookout in the fore-top. Perth and Herman were the first to do this duty.
"I suppose our game is all up," said the latter, as they seated themselves in the top.
"It don't look very hopeful; but I suppose we are going somewhere," replied Perth. "When we make a port, I'm off, if I have to swim ashore."
"I'm with you; but those five-pound notes will suffer in the water."
"I will look out for them," answered Perth, grating his teeth with anger. "I think we are reduced to common sailors, and I can't stand it."
"One thing is certain; we can't help ourselves. If Fluxion chooses to go round the world with us, we can't do anything but submit."
"I'm not so sure of that. When we find out where he is going, we can figure up what it is best to do. We are not babies, and thirty-one of us can do something. But we will keep still till we ascertain where we are going."
"Look ahead!" said Herman, pointing a little over the port bow. "Isn't that land?"