“I guessed as much,” he cried joyfully, “when you were interrupted by the sight of the steamer a short time ago. Phil, you are a schemer. It’s the very thing; if it will only be possible,” he added as the risks which must be taken first crossed his mind. He remembered this bay. It was large enough inside to anchor a fleet of battle-ships.
O’Neil quietly nodded his head—silent eloquence which meant much from the sailor. Marley opened his mouth wider, as if by so doing the complications might more readily be heard and elucidated.
“Of course if we find the Japanese vessels are farther south than it seems safe for them to be, then we cannot run this risk, and must wire Manila,” Phil explained earnestly.
The night slipped by quietly. The sea, stirred to life by the gentle trade wind, caused the yacht to roll easily but did not lessen her speed.
“In weather like this she’s as fast as a Cunarder,” Phil exclaimed to Sydney, as they prepared to go below to their cabins.
The next morning Phil was awakened by a loud knock on his door and O’Neil’s excited face appeared at the threshold.
“They’re somewhere about.” The boatswain’s mate imparted his information hurriedly. “I’ve been trying to tune down to them on the wireless all morning, since four o’clock, and I’ve just found ’em.”
“Where are they—near?” Phil asked anxiously, jumping out of his bunk and hastily dressing.
“I can’t say to that, sir, but if they are only talking to each other they are not far away. If they are talking to some one at a distance, they may not be near us at all.” O’Neil closed the door after delivering himself of his message, to return to the wireless room, while Phil finished dressing and was soon on deck.
The air was balmy and warm, while myriads of flying fish could be seen sailing gracefully over the swelling sea in their mad haste to escape from this hurrying monster.