"Swing a half-point off port bow, Eph--steady, now!" breathed the young
skipper, intensely.

Down below, Hal Hastings was performing as near to wonders as was
possible with a gasoline engine. Jacob Farnum stood just inside the
conning tower, prepared to rush below with any other orders.

"Yes, it's the derelict!" shouted Benson, presently. "I can make out
the stumps of two masts now. We'll be there in a few minutes."

"We'll be lucky if we don't get there too late," grumbled Somers. "Shall
I steer direct for the old wreck, or take the course from you?"

"Better take it from me for a time," Benson replied. "My glass will be
more dependable than your naked eye."

The "Thor," also, was heading straight for the derelict. So far, the
Rhinds boat was still nearer.

It began to look, however, as if the "Thor's" engines were not quite as
fast as those of the other Rhinds boat, the "Zelda."

"Are we going to make it?" breathed Eph, the perspiration of sheer strain
standing out on his forehead.

"Yes!" almost barked Jack Benson.

"Sure thing, is it?" persisted Somers.

"Sure--only don't talk too much," growled young Benson.