"I hope we don't have to," went on the owner of the brig. "A week
ought to bring us within sight of her, if she still floats. But there
is no telling what that scoundrel Blowitz may have done. He is capable
of having some one of the crew bore holes in the ship before they
deserted hEr, so she would slowly sink, and he could collect the
insurance. In fact he may have done so, and only be pretending that
she is a derelict. I wish we would get sight of her. A great deal, so
far as my fortune is concerned, depends on the result of this search."
The boys, no less than Maurice De Vere, were anxious to sight the
derelict, not so much for the prize money, but because they wanted to
be successful, and have their cruise result in something.
Another day went by, and, though they sighted several vessels in the
distance, no water-logged craft or slowly drifting derelict greeted
their eyes.
"We'll hope for better luck to-morrow," said Mr. De Vere as darkness
began to fall, "though from the weather indications, I would say we
were in for a blow."
"It does look as if getting ready for a storm," admitted Jerry.
There was a curious stillness to the air, and the ocean had a queer
oily look, the waves heaving restlessly as though they were impatient
at their slow motion, and wanted to break into a wild revel.
Off to the west there was a murky, yellowish look to the sky, and, now
and then, there came puffs of wind that had in them a hint of great
force and power.
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