As his eyes encountered the name, Mr. Chadwick gave a gasp.
“Why,—why! This is most extraordinary!” he cried in frank amazement. “This is the very yacht from which my wireless message was relayed from Sciuticut!”
“They must have been trying to make for the mouth of the Nestorville River when whatever is the matter on board, came up,” commented Jack.
But by this time they were at the gangway and conversation ceased for the time being. They could see several heads poked over the side, eying them curiously. As they came alongside, a stockily built man with a bristling straw-colored moustache descended the gangway stairs.
He wore a blue coat with brass buttons and appeared to be in authority.
“What’s the trouble?” demanded Jack eagerly, as the man came nearer.
“Good. You saw our signal for aid, then?” he said with an odd sort of hesitation. “You come near wrecking that contraption, just the same,” he added. “What kind of a craft is it?”
“Never mind that now,” exclaimed Mr. Chadwick impatiently. “The question is, do you need help? Are you aground, or what?”
“No, it ain’t that exactly,” said the man slowly; “it’s trouble of another sort.”
“Is this Professor Von Dinkelspeil’s yacht?” asked Jack quickly.