boat,” directed Jim, “and we will talk things over as we go along.”

“Where are you going now?”

“Out to take a look for the Sea Eagle, and see if she is still there.”

“You haven’t told me what you found,” persisted Berwick.

“One thing I am sure of, I lost that fellow Manuel.”

“See anything of him?”

“Not a thing. Maybe he was after you instead of me.”

“Heaven forbid,” ejaculated Berwick, with a half glance backward.

“So you did not find a ship for us?” repeated Jim.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything in port that we can get. Just missed getting one, though. Martinex sold a ship this morning that would have just suited us.”

“That’s tough,” sighed Jim. “We have got to have one before Broome gets away.”

“Don’t know where you are going to get it.”

“Neither do I,” returned Jim. “But we are like the boy and the hedgehog, ‘We have just got to get one.’”

By this time they had come within sight of where the Sea Eagle lay riding quietly at her anchor, but not going close enough to be recognized by any on board who might be on the watch.

“There isn’t any signs of their getting ready to sail,” decided Jim, after a few moments study of the yacht. “So I think we are safe for another day.”

“There is something that would suit us to a T,” remarked Berwick on their way back, indicating a trim looking schooner-rigged yacht. “She’s a beauty,” he observed enthusiastically.

The yacht seemed to rest as lightly upon the water as a sea bird. Long, low, with not too much freeboard, it rose and fell on the waves, tugging at the anchor chains as though impatient to slip her leash and bound away on her course. It was painted in a pale metallic yellow that glittered in the rays of the setting sun like gold.

“The owner of that boat won’t hire her,” declared Berwick. “I bet he thinks more of her than he does of his wife.”

“I don’t believe he has one,” declared Jim. “Almost as good as the Sea Eagle, isn’t she?”—which was high praise from Jim. “Perhaps we could hire her. We might take a look at her.”

“The Storm King!” he exclaimed, when they came near enough to read the name on the bow. “Why that is the boat the old captain told us about when he had the brush with Broome.”

“Brush with Broome is good,” said Berwick, with a laugh, “but I thought he said that boat was in the South Seas.”

“Must have come in. The captain said Singleton owned her. Maybe he would like to charter her. We’ll try him anyhow. Storm King, ahoy!” hailed Jim pulling up to the side of the yacht.

“Boat ahoy,” answered a sailor on deck.

“Is the captain on board?” asked Jim.

“D’ye mean Captain Wilkins?”

“I guess yes,” answered Jim, “I would like to speak to him.”

“I admire your nerve, Jim,” said Berwick, in an undertone.

“Coming on board, sir?” asked the sailor, making ready to heave a small line.

“Yes,” returned Jim, “heave away.”

Catching the line the sailor had thrown, Jim and Berwick climbed the gangway ladder to the deck where they were met by Captain Wilkins, a grizzled old seaman, attired in an undress uniform. He was tall, stoutly built, with an alert air about him that impressed both Jim and Berwick favorably at the start.

“How do you do, gentlemen?” The captain greeted them with punctilious politeness, “glad to meet you.”

“And we are very glad to meet you, Captain Wilkins,” returned Jim. “This is a fine boat you have.”

“Isn’t she,” returned the captain with enthusiasm. “There was never a better come out of a shipyard. Look at her lines. Why she sets on the water like a duck. And roomy, too. She ain’t one of the slim waisted kind where you don’t have room to turn around. Why, Lord love you, lads, ye could be no more comfortable if you put up at the Palace Hotel.”

“You’re right there, captain,” agreed Berwick, “I never saw a prettier boat. I can see you carry quite an armament.”

“Oh, that was for use in the South Seas. She was engaged in trade down there, and we used to have a brush occasionally with the pirates. Not of late, however, for they learned to leave her alone.”

“Do you own her?” asked Jim.

“Haven’t such good luck. Wish I did. No, she belongs to a professor with a long name, though I’m blessed if I know what he’s going to do with her. Just bought her a couple of months ago, and fixed her all up. Overhauled the hull and rigging, put in new tackle and fixed up the engines as good as new.”

“Do you think he would sell her?” asked Jim.

“Not him,” responded the captain. “He has just got her fixed to suit him. She’s fit for a queen now. Just come below and take a look around.”

Accepting the invitation, Jim and Berwick went below and inspected the staterooms and found that they fully justified the captain’s praise.

“Ye gods and little fishes!” exclaimed Berwick, “it looks more like a lady’s boudoir than a ship’s cabin.”

“I fancy you’ve hit it, don’t you know,” agreed the captain, “I kind of fancy that he’s going off on a bridal tour.”

“Where is the professor now?” asked Jim.

“He’s off East somewhere,” replied the captain. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s gone after the lady.”

“Much obliged to you, captain,” said Jim, when they had gone up on deck again, “I’m awfully sorry she can’t be bought. I think she would have just suited us.”

“You can’t never tell,” observed the captain, philosophically, when they were leaving, “you might hunt up the perfesser when he gets back. Perhaps the lady might change her mind. Such things have happened.”

“So I have learned,” laughed Berwick. “Well, goodbye, captain. We may act on your advice.”

CHAPTER V.

WHEREIN ARE SEVERAL SURPRISES.

John Berwick had taken the oars on leaving the Storm King, and had pulled for some time in the direction of the city. Without speaking, he gave undivided attention to his task, while Jim seated in the stern sheets, was also silent, lost in thought.

“Well, Jim,” began Berwick, after a time, as they were nearing the city wharves, “have you decided on your next move?”

“Yes,” responded Jim, rousing himself. “The next thing I am going to do is to get dinner.

“Then,” continued Jim, “I am going to bed and get a good night’s sleep and make a fresh start in the morning.”

“A most sensible thing, Jim,” agreed the man at the oars.

“That’s what Broome is going to do, too.”

“What?” asked Jim.

“Make a good start in the morning.”

“Can’t help it if he does,” growled Jim. “Have you anything better to suggest?”

“No, I suppose that we have done all that we can.”

“But not all that we are going to do!” snapped Jim. “I’ll find some way of squaring our accounts.

“Hallo!” he cried in an undertone a moment later. “Now what do you think of that?”

“What is it?” asked Berwick in alarm.

“Look there on the wharf.”

“By the beard of Neptune! You’re right!” exclaimed Berwick, dropping his oars in his surprise, and nearly capsizing the boat as he grabbed for one.

“Easy