to return, and, as it is
absolutely deserted, I cannot imagine why the schooner should visit
the place.

Perhaps, however, the Count d'Artigas and his companions have no
intention of landing there. Even though the _Ebba_ should find
temporary shelter between the rocky sides of a narrow creek there is
nothing to give ground to the supposition that a wealthy yachtsman
would have the remotest idea of fixing upon as his residence an arid
cone exposed to all the terrible tempests of the Western Atlantic. To
live hero is all very well for rustic fishermen, but not for the Count
d'Artigas, Engineer Serko, Captain Spade and his crew.

Back Cup is now only half a mile off, and the seaweed thrown up on its
rocky base is plainly discernible. The only living things upon it are
the sea-gulls and other birds that circle in clouds around the smoking
crater.

When she is only two cable's lengths off, the schooner slackens speed,
and then stops at the entrance of a sort of natural canal formed by a
couple of reefs that barely rise above the water.

I wonder whether the _Ebba_ will venture to try the dangerous feat of
passing through it. I do not think so. She will probably lay where she
is--though why she should do so I do not know--for a few hours, and
then continue her voyage towards the east.

However this may be I see no preparations in progress for dropping
anchor. The anchors are suspended in their usual places, the cables
have not been cleared, and no motion has been made to lower a single
boat.

At this moment Count d'Artigas, Engineer Serko and Captain Spade go
forward and perform some manoeuvre that is inexplicable to me.

I walk along the port side of the deck until I am near the foremast,
and then I can see a small buoy that the sailors are hoisting in.
Almost immediately the water, at the same spot becomes dark and I
observe a black mass rising to the surface. Is it a big whale rising
for air, and is the _Ebba_ in danger of being shattered by a blow from
the monster's tail?

Now I understand! At last the mystery is solved. I know what was the
motor that caused the schooner to go at such an extraordinary speed
without sails and without a screw. Her indefatigable motor is emerging
from the sea, after having towed her from the coast of America to
the archipelago of the Bermudas. There it is, floating alongside--a
submersible boat, a submarine tug, worked by a screw set in motion by
the current from a battery of acc