only a frail bottom of half-inch planking between him and the floor of
the sea.

The launch in fact, while a staunch little craft, was better adapted
for lake or river navigation than as a sea-goer.

"However, I might as well keep on as stay still," mused the
philosophical Bill, baling out the water that now came tumbling aboard
in far too great quantities to render the situation a pleasant one. So
the day passed and it was not till the next morning, after an
exhausting night of constant terror that the launch was about to sink,
that Bill saw the smoke of a distant steamer as he rose on a wave
crest.

Would her officers see him?

That was the question that agitated his mind as he waved frantically
while she drew nearer and he saw that she was one of the crack liners
of the Central American Trading Company. As she raced through the
water a great "Bone" of white spray was sent out from each side of her
keen cutwater. A volume of thick black smoke rolled from her yellow
funnels. She would have made a fine sight to any one less in fear of
his life than Bluewater Bill.

Till she was within half-a-mile of him it seemed the big craft was
going to pass him by, but suddenly, to his joy, Bill saw her change
her course and bear down for him. As she drew nearer, rolling mightily
in the high sea, a man on the bridge hailed him in stentorian tones
through a megaphone.