During the afternoon the Santa Maria slipped through the lower end of South Pass into the gulf, and began to roll and wallow in the heavier swell.
Carl became indisposed. He declared that he wasn't seasick, but the motion of the boat annoyed him. He made for his stateroom with the announced intention of lying down and getting himself accustomed to the pitch and tumble. Dick, in the hope of discovering the whereabouts of Sixty and the girl, strolled forward. Matt was left alone on the stretch of deck aft of the bridge. An awning sheltered him from the sun, and the breeze that wafted itself across the broad reaches of the gulf was grateful and refreshing.
All the other passengers who had been occupying deck chairs in that part of the boat had gone away.
Matt, after half an hour's wait for Dick to return, got up with the idea of looking for him. As he passed a casual glance over the foamy trail left by the Santa Maria, his keen eye detected something appearing and disappearing in the tumbling waves that captured his immediate attention.
The object glistened in the rays of the afternoon sun and looked like a reddish ball. Sometimes he could see it quite plainly for a few moments, rolling and tumbling in the waters, and then a large wave would sweep past and blot it from his sight.
The ball seemed to be following the ship, maintaining at all times the same distance.
Was it some kind of a fish? Matt asked himself. If it was, then it was a variety of fish of which he had never heard or read.
He looked around to see if there were any of the officers or deck hands in his vicinity, but there were none, and he was obliged to watch and wrestle with his curiosity.
It might be a piece of wreckage, he told himself; yet, if it was, what kept it in the wake of the Santa Maria?
He continued to hang over the rail and watch the queer red object, waiting for some of the ship's officers or men to come to that part of the boat.