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."

"Yes, sir."

The cruiser steamed to within half a mile of the aimless traveller, and
the small boat put out. Not one of his fellows but envied the young
ensign as he left the ship, steered by Timmins, a veteran bo's'n's mate,
wise in all the ins and outs of sea ways. They saw him board, neatly
running the small boat under the schooner's counter;