"
This wild surmise was the only reasonable hypothesis that had been
struck on. Another group of men rushed for the jury mast to show the
fishermen that their presence was desired. At any rate the faint breeze
was very slowly bringing the two vessels together.
If the men had been heretofore anxious that the cool breeze continue,
now their anxiety was redoubled. At any moment it might die away and
leave the _Vulcan_ stranded beyond communication. In painful
uncertainty, they watched the tug drag her hull slowly into sight, then
slowly eat her way down the long mazy lanes of the Sargasso.
Then, when she was well in view, Farnol Greer said:
"She is not the _Vulcan_, sir."
By this time all the men had their brown faces wrinkled up against the
glare of the sunshine. Now they redoubled their gaze on the distant
vessel.
"Faith, and sure enough she isn't!" cried Hogan.
Greer was right; the strange vessel was not the tug. She had a funnel
amidship and two masts, but there her resemblance to the _Vulcan_
ceased.
The crew stared, talked, speculated, until the sun swung up like a
white-hot metal ball in the sky, and the quivering heat drove them below
under the awnings. From here they could still view the stranger, but not
to so good advantage. The breeze, by good fortune lasted till deep in
the morning, but finally dropped down in the blanketing heat, with the
unknown craft a good three miles distant.
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