The captain moodily paced the bridge with his head down.

"I ought to have turned back to New York," he said to himself.

Then he went down to his own room, avoiding the passengers as much as
he could, and had the steward bring him some beef-tea. Even a captain
cannot live on anxiety.

"Steamer off the port bow, sir," rang out the voice of the lookout at
the prow. The man had sharp eyes, for a landsman could have seen
nothing.

"Run and tell the captain," cried Johnson to the sailor at his elbow,
but as the sailor turned the captain's head appeared up the stairway.
He seized the glass and looked long at a single point in the horizon.

"It must be the Vulcan," he said at last.

"I think so, sir."

"Turn your wheel a few points to port and bear down on her."

Johnson gave the necessary order and the great ship veered around.

"Hello!" cried Spinner, on deck. "Here's a steamer. I found her. She's
mine."

Then there was a rush to the side of the ship. "A steamer in sight!"
was the cry, and all books and magazines at once lost interest. Even