n began to feel faint and hungry. He decided to look for food.
Lashing the wheel he went below and began his search in the dark,
water-logged interior of the ship.

"Git out!" shrieked the parrot.

"I'm going to, just as soon as I find a cracker."

The parrot shrieked with rage, which caused the Battleship Boy to laugh
almost happily.

After some searching about the lad came upon a tin case of hard tack
that had not been water-soaked. A piece of this he gave to the parrot,
the rest being stuffed into his own pockets. Then Dan returned to his
wheel.

It was late that afternoon when the lad caught sight of something ahead
in the distance that attracted his attention instantly. He sprang up
to the broken rail, and, supporting himself by a twisted stanchion,
peered into the midst of the spray.

"Land ho!" he shouted. "I think I see a light house."

Dan danced about the deck gleefully, for a moment, then grabbed the
wheel.

"Gid-dap! You're a slow old poke," he jeered.

After a time he was able to make out the beacon more clearly.

"Somehow, that light house looks familiar to me," he muttered. "I know
I have seen it before. Why, of course; I know where I am now. Hurrah!
We're headed for the Delaware Breakwater. If I keep on in this way
I'll be in Philadelphia--in the course of time," he added with a broad
grin.

As Dan Davis and his derelict craft drew nearer and nearer he
discovered something else that caused him to gaze fixedly. What he saw
was the towering cage masts of a battleship.

"Saved!" cried the Battleship Boy. "And it's the 'Long Island.' I
know it is. Won't they be surprised to see me, though? They must have
gone in there to get out of the gale."

The lad was swelling with pride. He had accomplished a great feat, and
he knew it.

By this time glasses from the warship were being leveled at the strange
craft that was to be seen floundering through the sea, headed for the
harbor where the battleship was at anchor. The officer of the deck
sent word to the captain, who was below, and the captain, after one
look at the wreck approaching, sent for the executive officer.

"What do you make of her, Mr. Coates?" he questioned.

The executive officer took a long, searching look at the schooner, then
turned wonderingly toward his superior.

"It's our schooner 'Oriole,' unless I am greatly mistaken, sir."

"You don't mean it?"

"I may be mistaken, but it looks very much like her."