“You’re on,” said Carter.

“Let me in,” suggested Ives.

“And I’ll take one of it,” said McGuire.

“Come one, come all,” said Edwards cheerily.  “I’ll live high on the collective bad judgment of this outfit.”

“To-night isn’t likely to settle it, anyhow,” said Ives.  “I move we turn in.”

Expectant minds do not lend themselves to sound slumber.  All night the officers of the Wolverine slept on the verge of waking, but it was not until dawn that the cry of “Sail-ho!” sent them all hurrying to their clothes.  Ordinarily officers of the U.S.  Navy do not scuttle on deck like a crowd of curious schoolgirls, but all hands had been keyed to a high pitch over the elusive light, and the bet with Edwards now served as an excuse for the betrayal of unusual eagerness.  Hence the quarter-deck was soon alive with men who were wont to be deep in dreams at that hour.

They found Carter, whose watch on deck it was, reprimanding the lookout.

“No, sir,” the man was insisting, “she didn’t show no light, sir.  I’d ‘a’ sighted her an hour ago, sir, if she had.”

“We shall see,” said Carter grimly.  “Who’s your relief?”

“Sennett.”

“Let him take your place.  Go aloft, Sennett.”

As the lookout, crestfallen and surly, went below, Barnett said in subdued tones: 

“Upon my word, I shouldn’t be surprised if the man were right.  Certainly there’s something queer about that hooker.  Look how she handles herself.”

The vessel was some three miles to windward.  She was a schooner of the common two-masted Pacific type, but she was comporting herself in a manner uncommon on the Pacific, or any other ocean.  Even as Barnett spoke, she heeled well over, and came rushing up into the wind, where she stood with all sails shaking.  Slowly she paid off again, bearing away from them.  Now she gathered full headway, yet edged little by little to windward again.

“Mighty queer tactics,” muttered Edwards.  “I think she’s steering herself.”

“Good thing she carries a weather helm,” commented Ives, who was an expert on sailing rigs.  “Most of that type do.  Otherwise she’d have jibed her masts out, running loose that way.”

Captain Parkinson appeared on deck and turned his glasses for a full minute on the strange schooner.

“Aloft there,” he hailed the crow’s-nest.  “Do you make out anyone aboard?”

“No, sir,” came the answer.

“Mr. Carter, have the chief quartermaster report on deck with the signal flags.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Aren’t we going to run up to her?” asked McGuire, turning in surprise to Edwards.

“And take the risk of getting a hole punched in our pretty paint, with her running amuck that way?  Not much!”

Up came the signal quartermaster to get his orders, and there ensued a one-sided conversation in the pregnant language of the sea.