“What ship is that?”

No answer.

“Are you in trouble?” asked the cruiser, and waited.  The schooner showed a bare and silent main-peak.

“Heave to.”  Now Uncle Sam was giving orders.

But the other paid no heed.

“We’ll make that a little more emphatic,” said Captain Parkinson.  A moment later there was the sharp crash of a gun and a shot went across the bows of the sailing vessel.  Hastened by a flaw of wind that veered from the normal direction of the breeze the stranger made sharply to windward, as if to obey.

“Ah, there she comes,” ran the comment along the cruiser’s quarter-deck.

But the schooner, after standing for a moment, all flapping, answered another flaw, and went wide about on the opposite tack.

“Derelict,” remarked Captain Parkinson.  “She seems to be in good shape, too, Dr. Trendon!”

“Yes, sir.”  The surgeon went to the captain, and the others could hear his deep, abrupt utterance in reply to some question too low for their ears.

“Might be, sir.  Beri-beri, maybe.  More likely smallpox if anything of that kind.  But some of ’em would be on deck.”

“Whew!  A plague ship!” said Billy Edwards.  “Just my luck to be ordered to board her.”  He shivered slightly.

“Scared, Billy?” said Ives.  Edwards had a record for daring which made this joke obvious enough to be safe.

“I wouldn’t want to have my peculiar style of beauty spoiled by smallpox marks,” said the ensign, with a smile on his homely, winning face.  “And I’ve a hunch that that ship is not a lucky find for this ship.”

“Then I’ve a hunch that your hunch is a wrong one,” said Ives.  “How long would you guess that craft to be?”

[Illustration:  A schooner comporting herself in a manner uncommon on the Pacific]

They were now within a mile of the schooner.  Edwards scrutinised her calculatingly.

“Eighty to ninety feet.”

“Say 150 tons.  And she’s a two-masted schooner, isn’t she?” continued Ives, insinuatingly.

“She certainly is.”

“Well, I’ve a hunch that that ship is a lucky find for any ship, but particularly for this ship.”

“Great Caesar!” cried the ensign excitedly.  “Do you think it’s her?”

A buzz of electric interest went around the group.  Every glass was raised; every eye strained toward her stern to read the name as she veered into the wind again.  About she came.  A sharp sigh of excited disappointment exhaled from the spectators.  The name had been painted out.

“No go,” breathed Edwards.  “But I’ll bet another dinner——­”

“Mr. Edwards,” called the captain.  “You will take the second cutter, board that schooner, and make a full investigation.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take your time.  Don’t come alongside until she is in the wind.  Leave enough men aboard to handle her.”