“Eat, why I’m starved,” said the lad. And together he and the captain went into the dining-room.
The marine engineer had finished his work on the plans during the few hours before dinner and was at liberty to spend the time on deck with Jack and the captain during the afternoon. The run to Hood Island took about eight hours in all, and the captain had estimated that they would not make their destination much before four o’clock.
The vessel was well out to sea and running due north when Jack came on deck and the boy thrilled with pleasure when he viewed the vast expanse of lonesome water. Astern was a long trail of black smoke across the sky left by a steamer that had disappeared below the horizon, while north and off the port bow was a distant sail almost directly in the path of the tender. Jack watched this sail curiously, for he was interested to know how soon the _Blueflower_ would overtake it. Gradually they drew up on it until he could make out the rig without difficulty. She appeared to be a very swift sailing yawl and Mr. Warner confirmed this when a few minutes later he brought his binoculars from the cabin and had a good look at her.
“She’s a trim little yawl and from the pulpit-like affair on her bowsprit I take it she’s a swordfisherman. These waters are full of ’em. I wish that they would locate a big fish, then you’d see some fun.”
“From her lines,” he said after another inspection, “I should say she was a mighty speedy craft. She has a big patch in her main sail. And her name is--F-i-s-h--H--it looks like Fish Hawk, but I can’t be positive. Hang it, I would like to-- Say, fellows, get your glasses. They _are_ after a swordfish! There’s a man with a harpoon climbing out onto her bowsprit now! Hurry!”
Jack and the captain hustled into the cabin and a moment later returned armed with binoculars. Through his, Jack got an excellent view of the little vessel. She had altered her course so that she was running at a right angle to the direction taken by the tender and the huge patch in the mainsail was quite visible. He could see the harpoon wielder climbing out on her bowsprit, too, and he watched intently as he saw him poise, spear aloft, ready to strike.
For fully five minutes the man stood in this attitude. Then suddenly he lunged forward and hurled the shaft. Instantly there was a mighty splash just under the yawl’s bow and the next moment the craft shot forward with a rush.