ing up into the wind, where she stood with all sails shaking. Slowly she paid off again, bearing away from them. Now she gathered full headway, yet edged little by little to windward again.
"Mighty queer tactics," muttered Edwards. "I think she's steering herself."
"Good thing she carries a weather helm," commented Ives, who was an expert on sailing rigs. "Most of that type do. Otherwise she'd have jibed her masts out, running loose that way."
Captain Parkinson appeared on deck and turned his glasses for a full minute on the strange schooner.
"Aloft there," he hailed the crow's-nest. "Do you make out anyone aboard?"
"No, sir," came the answer.
"Mr. Carter, have the chief quartermaster report on deck with the signal flags."
"Yes, sir."
"Aren't we going to run up to her?" asked McGuire, turning in surprise to Edwards.
"And take the risk of getting a hole punched in our pretty paint, with her running amuck that way? Not much!"
Up came the signal quartermaster to get his orders, and there ensued a one-sided conversation in the pregnant language of the sea.
"What ship is that?"
No answer.
"Are you in trouble?" asked the cruiser, and waited. The schooner showed a bare and silent main-peak.
"Heave to." Now Uncle Sam was giving orders.
