Paul looked around him on the forecastle, and some other familiar objects were missing. Suddenly it flashed into his mind that this was not the Sylph after all; but the absurdity of his making a mistake in the identity of the steamer which he was accustomed to see at the wharf in Beechwater every day, and in which he had made so many trips to Westport and elsewhere, was so apparent to him that he instantly rejected the idea.
To his mind, in spite of the absence of the signs on the pilot-house, and other familiar objects, the steamer was the Sylph. The mystery of her being in possession of other persons than the Beech Hillers seemed to thicken upon him. She had taken position not fifty feet from the water side, and there she lay. Paul wondered what she was waiting for, and why she did not do something. If any person on board was to be landed at the point, it was about time to lower one of the quarter boats, which hung on davits abaft the engine. But nothing was done, and no one said anything; and Paul was getting desperate.
There was a mystery about the steamer, which, in spite of the good order which prevailed on board of her when her regular ship's company were on duty, presented a very lively aspect. Paul was not patient in the presence of mysteries which concerned him, as in the present instance, for since the setting adrift of the Dragon he was practically a prisoner on board of her. He decided to solve the problem of the strangeness of things on the deck, and for this purpose he went aft to the ladder on the port side which led to the hurricane deck. He was determined to have a pow-wow with the pilot, and to ascertain who were the modest persons that concealed themselves in the back part of his quarters.
He reached the deck on which the pilot-house stood, without impediment, and walked to the door. It was locked, which was not usual on board of the Sylph. He passed on to the side window, where the man at the wheel suddenly confronted him. He had seen this man before, but he had no acquaintance with him.
"Will you be kind enough to tell me what steamer this is?" Paul began, in his efforts to solve the mystery.
"The Undine, of Westport," replied the pilot, for such he undoubtedly was.
"I never heard of her before," added Paul, overwhelmed to find that she was not the Sylph.
"As she came into the lake for the first time this morning, you were not in the way of hearing of her," answered the man, rather stiffly.
"But she looks exactly like the Sylph, which belongs to the Beech Hill Industrial School," said Paul, trying to get a sight of the persons on the sofa of the room.