Upon the deck of the unsuspecting vessel a merry party
laughed and chatted in happy ignorance of the plotters in
their path. It was nearly half an hour after the Halfmoon had
come to rest, drifting idly under bare poles, that the lookout
upon the Lotus sighted her.
"Sailin' vessel lyin' to, west half south," he shouted, "flyin'
distress signals."
In an instant guests and crew had hurried to points of
vantage where they might obtain unobstructed view of the
stranger, and take advantage of this break in the monotony of
a long sea voyage.
Anthony Harding was on the bridge with the captain, and
both men had leveled their glasses upon the distant ship.
"Can you make her out?" asked the owner.
"She's a brigantine," replied the officer, "and all that I can
make out from here would indicate that everything was shipshape
about her. Her canvas is neatly furled, and she is
evidently well manned, for I can see a number of figures
above deck apparently engaged in watching us. I'll alter our
course and speak to her--we'll see what's wrong, and give
her a hand if we can."
"That's right," replied Harding; "do anything you can for
them."
A moment later he joined his daughter and their guests to
report the meager information he had.
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