elmsman in the ship had her in hand.

"Why, this is _splendid_!" exclaimed Ned. "You are evidently a born
helmsman--or _helmswoman_, rather--Miss Stanhope. Permit me to
congratulate you on your success. Not a man in the ship could do better
than you are now doing. I foresee that, before long, whenever any extra
fine steering has to be done, we shall have to request you to take the
wheel."

"Thank you; that is a very neatly turned compliment," remarked Sibylla.
"But I am afraid I do not wholly deserve it. For the last five minutes
I have been steering, not by the little sail up there, as you told me,
but by that small dark object right ahead. It is so much easier--"

"Small dark object! where away?" interrupted Ned. "Ah! I see it. Sail
ho! right ahead Mr Bryce," he reported to the chief-mate.

The mate, who was sitting smoking on a hen-coop, to leeward, close to
the break of the poop, rose slowly to his feet, walked to the weather
side of the deck, and, shading his eyes with his hand, looked ahead, but
was apparently unable to see anything.

"There she is, just over the weather cat-head!" exclaimed Ned, as he
placed himself in line with the mate.

"All right! I see her," responded the mate, as he at length caught
sight of the small purple-grey spot on the south-western horizon, and he
sauntered back to his seat.

At this moment Captain Blyth made his appearance on the poop. "Did I
hear a sail reported ahead, Mr Bryce?" he asked, as he reached the
poop.

"Very likely. There _is_ one," answered the mate, without offering to
point her out.

Captain Blyth looked annoyed at this boorishness of speech and conduct,
but it was habitual with the mate--he apparently knew no better--the
skipper was becoming accustomed to it by this time, and, without
noticing it, he walked aft and said:

"Where is she, Ned?"

Ned pointed her out.

"Ah, yes," said the skipper. "Is she coming this way, think you?"

"I should fancy not, sir," answered Ned. "It was Miss Stanhope who
first sighted her; she has been steering by her for fully five minutes;
and had yonder ship been coming this way I think we should see her more
distinctly by this time than we do."

"I'll bet any money that it's the _Southern Cross_!" exclaimed the
skipper with animation. "Get your glass, Ned, my boy, and slip up as
far as the fore royal-yard, and see what you can make of her. I'll stay
here, meanwhile, and see that Miss Stanhope doesn't ru