gleefully. "Now I'll chalk out the
position an' give her the course--magnetic, to make sure."

He did so, and they held up in full view of the steamer's bridge a
large blackboard showing in six-inch letters the formula: "Lat. 41-20.
Lon. 69-10. Mag. Co. W. half S."

A toot of the whistle thanked them, and they watched the steamer, which
had been heading a little to the south of this course, painfully swing
her head up to it by hanging the schooner to the starboard leg of the
bridle; but she did not stop at west-half-south, and when she pointed
unmistakably as high as northwest, still dragging her tow by the
starboard bridle, a light broke on them.

"She's goin' on her way with us," said Elisha. "No, no; she can't.
She's bound for London," he added. "Halifax, mebbe."

They waved their hats to port, and shouted in chorus at the steamer.
They were answered by caps flourished to starboard from the bridge, and
outstretched arms which pointed across the Atlantic Ocean, while the
course changed slowly to north, then faster as wind and sea bore on the
other bow, until the steamer steadied and remained at east-by-north.

"The rhumb course to the Channel," groaned Elisha, wildly. "The nerve
of it! An' I'm supposed to give the longitude every noon. Why, dammit,
boys, they'll claim they rescued us, an' like as not the English
courts'll allow them salvage on our little tub."

"Let go the tow-line! Let 'em go to h----l!" they shouted angrily, and
some started forward, but were stopped by the cook. His eyes gleamed in
his black face, and his voice was a little higher pitched than usual;
otherwise he was the steadiest man there.

"We'll hang right on to our bran-new cable, men," he said. "It's ours,
not theirs. 'Course we kin turn her adrif' ag'in, an' be wuss off, too;
we can't find de foremast now. But dat ain't de bes' way. John," he
called to the Englishman of the crew, "how many men do you' country
tramp steamers carry?"

John computed mentally, then muttered: "Two mates, six ash-cats,[1] two
flunkies, two quartermasters, watchman, deck-hands--oh, 'bout sixteen
or seventeen, Martin."

[1] Ash-cats: engineers and firemen.

"Boys, le' 's man de win'lass. We'll heave in on our cable, an' if we
kin git close enough to climb aboard, we'll reason it out wid dat
English cappen, who can't fin' his way roun' alone widout stealin'
little fishin'-schooners."

"Right!" they yelled. "Man the windlass. We'll show the lime-jui