“I suppose they read that advertisement of the captain’s. He said he had it put in every paper of any prominence.”
“I guess that’s it. It was plain enough that they were kicking up some sort of a rumpus just as we were leaving.”
“So it looked to me. They were waving some sort of a paper.”
“Well, it isn’t our funeral. The captain gave us the word to go, and that’s all we’ve got to do with it. I’d give a good deal to know, though, just what they were trying to do.”
Perhaps it was just as well for Ned that he did not know. The knowledge that the Electric Monarch was not his any longer but had been legally left to his cousin would have made him absolutely miserable, for his whole being was wrapped up in the craft.
“Keep a bright lookout for the lighthouse at Scatiute, Ned—we ought to be sighting it at almost any moment now.”
“I’m watching for it,” rejoined Ned, as he went back to the motor platform to oil the bearings.
Not more than ten minutes later Jack’s sharp eyes caught sight of a white finger pointing upward to the sky at the extremity of a rocky point. He guessed that this must be Scatiute. The Electric Monarch had been skirting the coast, but as they swung by the lighthouse, Jack headed her straight out to sea.
Then began a period of tension that was to endure for several hours. Below them lay the glittering sea, calm and heaving gently, and flashing in the bright sunlight. But from even that height, with the extended horizon the elevation gave them, none of the watchers on the Electric Monarch could detect any sign of the craft they had come in search of.
As hour after hour went by without a sign of her, Jack’s heart began to sink. What if they were too late—if the Sky Eagle had sunk, carrying with her, into the depths of the sea, her unfortunate crew?