As they passed old Fort Pulaski, Ralph ventured to question the pilot
on the roof. This grizzled boatman was gruff, but obliging.

"It's the roar of the breakers, you hear," said he. "That is an old
fort. Good for a siege once--no good now. And yonder--do you see that
low lying, black schooner under the lee of Tybee light?"

"Where?" inquired Ralph, leaning out of the little pilot house window.

The pilot pointed, but it was quite a minute before the boy could
distinguish the vessel. When he did, all his unaccustomed eye could
make out, was a narrow dark line surmounted by a dim tracery of spars
that were barely relieved by the white beach behind.

Still further beyond rose the towering white lighthouse.

"I believe I do see it," he said at length.

"Well, that's the Curlew. She's a daisy on the wind, or for that
matter sailing free either. There ain't a sweeter looking
fore-an-after on this coast."

"Is that Captain Gary's ship?" asked Ralph, for he had not heard the
name of the vessel mentioned before.

"Well, you are an ignoramus. Don't know the name of the craft you're
shipping on."

The old pilot looked disgusted. "Where'd you get your trainin'?"