"I can't help being considerably disturbed about this mysterious conduct of Captain Blastblow; but I do not see that we are likely to be any wiser in regard to it, as Captain Alick says, till we see the captain," replied the colonel. "We have got to make the best of it, and be patient till we learn more. What do you think of it, Major Garningham?"

"I don't think it is possible to form an intelligent opinion without further information in regard to the facts," replied my father. "I am more inclined to believe that Captain Blastblow has made a mistake of some kind, than that he means anything wrong. It would be worse than folly for him to attempt to run away with the steam-yacht, for he is sure to be discovered and punished."

"If it is a mistake or a misunderstanding, it is a very queer one. But I am not disposed to worry about the matter, and I shall try to reconcile myself to the situation," replied Colonel Shepard, struggling to laugh off his anxiety for the safety of his yacht.

I think it was the want of her, more than the value of the craft, that troubled and vexed him. He was a very wealthy man, and if she was lost entirely to him, it would hardly impair his fortune.

"We shall do the best we can to solve the problem, and overhaul the Islander," I continued; "but, after all, we may miss her. If Captain Blastblow has made a blunder, or there is any misunderstanding, he must soon discover it. If he has only come out here for a trial trip, and should happen to pa.s.s us in the fog without our seeing him, he knows the Sylvania will put into Key West. If he gets back to Jacksonville, and finds that you have left in our steamer, he will return at once, and find us at our anchorage in port."

"When shall you reach Key West, Captain Alick?" asked the colonel.

"If we have good weather, it is a run of from forty-two to forty-five hours. If this fog continues, it will take longer than that, for the navigation is not all plain sailing," I replied.

"And you think you can overtake the Islander in about eight hours?"

"I think so, sir; but I can't say that we shall come near enough to see or hear her in this fog," I answered. "I think you had better make your party comfortable on board of the Sylvania, and leave the rest of the matter to me and my officers."

"I am confident that is the better way for you; and I am sure Alick will do all he can both to make you and your family comfortable in the cabin, and to find your runaway vessel," added my father.

Colonel Shepard yielded to this advice, and I went down into the after-cabin with all the pa.s.sengers to arrange about the staterooms and berths. Our involuntary guests declared that they were very sorry to make so much trouble, and especially to disturb our arrangements on board. Both my father and I a.s.sured them they made no trouble, and that we were not at all disturbed by their presence, inasmuch as we had invited them to take the cruise in the Sylvania, and were glad to have them on board.

I had made a diagram of the cabin, and a.s.signed rooms and berths to all the pa.s.sengers, when I supposed they were to sail with us. I proceeded to arrange our guests in accordance with this plan.

"Let me have a berth in the fore-cabin, Alick," said Owen to me in a whisper.

"There is no need of that, Owen," I replied. "There is room enough for all of you in this cabin, and some to spare. Colonel and Mrs. Shepard will occupy the port stateroom, as before, when they have sailed with us," I continued, consulting my diagram.

The colonel protested that he would not occupy the best stateroom; but I insisted, and went on giving out the apartments.

"Miss Edith and Miss Margie will take the starboard stateroom."

Both of them screamed with delight at this disposition of them, and Margie declared that I was a "dear, good little Captain Alick," though I was bigger in stature than her father. I had given the two larger rooms to those who were to double-up in them; and of the two remaining rooms, I gave one to my father and the other to Mr. Tiffany. Owen and Gus were a.s.signed to the two berths next to the rooms, which left two others for Chloe and the steward. The curtains drew out in front of the berths, so that the s.p.a.ces within them were almost the same as staterooms. All were satisfied. I gave orders to Cobbington to provide tables for all. Leaving the pa.s.sengers to arrange their baggage in their new quarters, I returned to the deck.

The fog was as dense as ever, and we could not see more than a ship's length ahead. Ben Bowman was on the top-gallant forecastle, and Buck Lingley on the fore-yard, keeping the lookout. We were driving the steamer in spite of the fog, and I had some hope that we might soon get a sight of the chase, or at least hear the sound of her whistle.

CHAPTER VIII.

A PORT IN A STORM.

"Washburn, you have a long head; can you make anything of the situation, for I suppose you know all about it?" I asked, as I joined the mate on the forecastle.

"I know what I have heard about the pilot-house and on the forecastle,"

replied Washburn.

"I have not been able to make anything out of it, so far," I continued.

"I can't believe that the captain of the Islander means to run away with her. I don't believe this is a trial trip, as you suggested, for the captain would not have come out into this fog on such an errand,"

added Washburn. "On the whole, I must believe it is a blunder on the part of the captain of the consort. But I think we are not likely to find out anything definite about the case until we overhaul the Islander. All we have to do is to keep moving to the southward, and keep a sharp lookout for the chase. It is useless to bother one's brains over questions that cannot be answered."

"When I saw the Islander, she was well in sh.o.r.e," I added. "If she takes a notion to come about, and run back to the St. Johns, we may miss her."

"And she may drop into St. Augustine," said the mate.

"I don't see any reason why she should," I replied. "Captain Blastblow knows that the party are bound up the Mississippi River. He knows the Sylvania is, at any rate; and he would not have headed to the southward if he had not intended to make the same trip, always supposing he has misunderstood his instructions."

"By six o'clock to-night, if everything holds as it is, we ought to overhaul the Islander, if we don't miss her in the fog, and Captain Blastblow don't do any better in her than any one else has ever done,"

continued Washburn. "But the wind is freshening, Captain Alick."

"Yes; and the barometer indicates that we are to have a bad day of it,"

I replied, looking at the white caps that rolled up to windward of the steamer.

The wind was gusty and savage. The steamer heeled well over to port under the heavy press of sail we were carrying. But I did not care much how hard it blew, if it would only carry off the fog, as I believed it would do soon.

By half-past ten I found it necessary to take in the fore square-sail and the fore top-gallant sail, for I was afraid the heavy weight of canvas would strain the foremast. This relieved the steamer for a time; but the wind had increased to a gale, and had hauled more to the southward. Half an hour later we took in the fore topsail and the main gaff-topsail, so that nothing but our fore and aft sails remained. The log at eleven indicated that we were making twelve knots, and it was about time for us to be up with St. Augustine light, but we could not see it in the fog. Suddenly we heard a fog-horn on our starboard bow.

I rushed into the pilot-house and rang the gong. The engineer immediately stopped the engine, and the roar of escaping steam followed. I was afraid we might run down some of the small craft that go in and out of St. Augustine.

"Sail, ho!" shouted Ben Bowman, on the top-gallant forecastle. "I see her; she is a pilot-boat."

A moment later I saw a sail-boat, in which were three men. There was a number on her sail, which indicated that she was a pilot-boat. She had evidently heard our whistle, and had came out in the rough sea to take us into St. Augustine, if we were bound into that port. I directed the wheel man to port the helm, so as to throw the Sylvania up into the wind under the stern of the pilot-boat.

"How came you up there, captain?" demanded one of the men in the boat, and all of them looked amazed.

"We are bound to the southward, coming down from St. Johns bar," I replied. "How does St. Augustine bear from here?"

"Due east," answered the spokesman of the trio.

"Look out for your reckoning, Washburn," I added, turning to the mate.

"Twenty minutes of twelve," added Washburn, consulting the chronometer.

"This is exactly where we ought to be at this time," and he made the entry on the log-slate.

"Haven't you been over this course before to-day?" asked the spokesman of the pilot.

"Not to-day," I answered, perceiving what it was that bewildered the pilots. They had evidently seen the Islander, and supposed the Sylvania was the same steamer.

"We came out here after a steamer we heard whistling in the fog,"

continued the speaker. "We got near enough to hail her; and if this is not the same steamer, she is as near like the other as one pea is like another."

"She is the twin sister of this vessel. Did you see who was on board of her?" I inquired.

"I saw no one but the captain, and he said he was bound south, and was not going into St. Augustine."

"Did he tell you where he was bound?"