"Boy or girl!" demanded Midshipman Dalzell.

"Can't tell at this distance. And now the next wave has blotted out what
I thought I saw."

"We've got to be patient," uttered Dan.

The position of the midshipmen was far from being free of danger. With
all their coolness and their undoubted skill in boat handling, there was
grave danger, with the mainsail set, that, at any instant, wind and wave
would capsize the boat.

Indeed, Dave was running the lee gunwale under water half the
time, trusting to the human ballast supplied by his comrade to
keep them afloat.

"See anything now?" demanded Dave.

"No," uttered Dan, "though I'm working my eyes three shifts to try to
make out something. I'll have to go to an oculist as soon as I get
through with this. This eyestrain is awful."

Midshipman Dan Dalzell was really unconscious of the fact that
he was joking. It was second nature with him; he would have
jested--unconsciously--with death in its most awful form.

"There, I see a head--two of them!" cried Midshipman Dave suddenly, as he
half rose and pointed.

"Hurrah!"--from Dan.