It was not long before the secret was out and had spread the length and breadth of the ship.
A wireless message had just been received, stating that, since nothing had been reported of the s.s. Bronx City following her account of the destruction of the Alerte, the Canvey was to proceed in search of the American vessel, keeping a sharp look-out on the coast as far south as the fifteenth parallel.
"Rotten stunt," grumbled the engineer-lieutenant, who was eagerly looking forward to the Canvey's return to Devonport—to an event that would result in, amongst other things, the hoisting of a garland between the ship's masts. "We were sent out here to chase a pirate, not to act as nurse to a Yankee tramp."
"Well, why didn't she show up at Teneriffe or Funchal?" demanded Allerton. "'Sides, something must have happened to her, or she'd have wirelessed again."
"Bows stove in by the collision," suggested the paymaster-lieutenant.
"But she reported she was proceeding," rejoined the engineer officer. "Proceeding where? That's what I want to know."
"You'll probably find out, if we're here long enough," said Broadmayne chaffingly. "It'll take six months or more to carry out orders. We can't examine the coast in the dark. That means we'll have to stand off every night and close the land at the same spot at daybreak. 'Sides, there are hundreds of little harbours we'll have to explore——"
"Oh, shut up, do!" interrupted the exasperated engineer-lieutenant.
For three days and nights the Canvey ran south, speaking several vessels, none of which could give any information concerning the sought-for Bronx City.
During the morning of the fourth day, Broadmayne, who was officer of the forenoon watch, received a report that a vessel's smoke was to be seen on the port bow.