A few hours of sleep, then again they were away. This time six powerful ships zooming away toward the distant skies that are England’s own.
After weary hours of waiting they found themselves once more above the waters from whence had come the last S. O. S. of the good ship, Queen Bess. There were five of them now, Alice, Dave, Brand, the Lark and the young Lord.
As Alice studied first the compass, then the chart, she looked at the young Lord who was at the controls and he understood.
He wanted to say, “Alice your hopes last too long. Forget the boat. It can’t be there.” But “forget” he knew full well was one word not to be found in the girl’s vocabulary. So, pointing the ship’s nose toward the sea, then stepping down its speed, he sailed close to sparkling waters. It was midday. The sun was bright. They could see for miles.
A half hour passed. Hope seemed all but gone when, of a sudden, Alice gripped the young Lord’s arm.
“Harm!” she screamed in his ear. “Off to the right! See! There’s something white!”
The young Lord saw nothing. He did bank away to the right.
Then they all saw it, a white spot. It seemed to move backward and forward. Every muscle tense, they waited. The spot loomed larger. Beneath it appeared a dark form.
“Alice—Alice—I know your voice”