"That's cabin grub, lad," remarked the sailor. "Second mate ordered it himself."
Ralph, with the horror of those three days of darkness, and pitching, and churning seas still upon him, thanked his stars that he seemed to have one friend on board.
Meanwhile, on deck all hands were watching the approach of a large steamship that was bearing down upon the Curlew to windward. The schooner was sailing with the wind abeam.
Presently the captain, who was examining the stranger through a glass, ordered the helmsman to "ease away a bit."
The Curlew fell off more before the wind, when it was seen that the steamer slightly changed her course so as to meet the altered movements of the schooner.
Gary and Rucker now put their heads together, then the first mate, summoning the boatswain, disappeared below.
"Hold her up a little, Mr. Duff," said the captain to the second officer, who was once more at his post. "She is a man of war, I think, and though I have no love for their prying ways, we must not seem to want to avoid her, now that she evidently intends to speak us."
So the schooner's head was put to windward, and the two vessels rapidly drew near each other.
It could soon be seen that the stranger was an armored cruiser, of great power and speed.
"Run up the Stars and Stripes," said Gary. "Let him see what we are. Perhaps he'll be satisfied and pass on."