"I carn't think of hall these things at once!" retorted Galton.
"Perhaps she ees the Vulcan under sail with deesabled engines?" suggested Deschaillon.
This explanation was accepted unanimously and joy broke out afresh.
"Why sure, th' Vulcan, th' good old Vulcan! Now, lads, let's give three cheers and maybe it'll reach 'er!"
Madden left the men trying to reach her with their bellows and went below after the mate's binoculars. When he returned the sun had swung up above the rim of the ocean and the sail was plainly discernible. He leveled his glasses and his eyes went searching among the distant markings of seaweed, until it finally rested on the sail. The vessel was hull down. There was nothing to see except a little canvas stretched neatly aloft and ship-shape masts and spars. He observed her attentively for some time. She seemed to be making very little headway. All in all, Madden made little of the craft, so he handed the glass to Smith. The Englishman was likewise puzzled, and the binoculars went down the line of curious men.
There was something in the way the youth named Farnol Greer handled the instrument that caused Madden to ask:
"What do you make out, Greer?"
"She is lying to, sir. She's backing her tops'ls flat against the breeze, and her mains'l's reefed and drawing with it."
"Lying to!" cried three or four voices. "W'ot does she mean by that? Looks as if she'd be bloomin' glad to get out o' such a bally place as this!"
"Let me have another look." Madden resumed the binoculars.