blistered and the oakum calking was spewing out of her sun-dried seams like Spanish moss on an aged tree. Her sails were mildewed and torn in many places and her ropes bleached and frayed. Mingling now with the incessant, melancholy tolling of the bell, came the monotonous creak of her booms and gaffs as they swung rhythmically to and fro.

No name appeared on her bow, although blurred tracings of white paint showed that one had once been inscribed there. But there was a yellow-painted figurehead; a stern, Roman-nosed bust of a man, apparently intended for an emperor or a warrior.

“We’ll row round the stern and take a look at her name,” decided Captain Sparhawk. “We’ll have to climb aboard from the other side anyway. There is no means of scrambling up from this.”

The boat was turned and rowed under the graceful stern of the derelict. On it, in bold, raised letters, surrounded by a fanciful design, stood out, in fading colors, the lost craft’s name.

“Centurion, San Francisco,” read out Jack, with an odd thrill. There was a sudden exclamation from Mr. Jukes, who had not yet been able to make out more than the first few letters.

“What’s that?” he exclaimed, in a voice so sharp and tense that the boys turned and stared at him, as did the boat’s crew and Captain Sparhawk.

Jack repeated his answer and, to his astonishment, Mr. Jukes, the iron-jawed, self-possessed business man, who had never shown signs of possessing any more emotion than a stone, suddenly sunk his head in his hands with a groan.

“Too late after all,” they heard him mutter unsteadily. But when he again raised his face, although it was ashy pale, he appeared to have mastered himself.

“Well, we’ve reached the end of our journey, Sparhawk,” he remarked in a voice that he rendered steady by an apparent effort. “Let us go on board, however, and see if we can find some trace of the unfortunates of the Centurion.”

The captain looked as if he would have liked to ask a great many questions, but something in Mr. Jukes’ face rendered him silent. He gave the necessary orders and the boat was pulled round to the other side of the schooner. Here they were glad to find some dilapidated ropes dangling which afforded a means of getting on board. Two sailors, after first testing their weight-bearing qualities, scrambled up them like monkeys, and, under the captain’s orders, went hunting for a Jacob’s ladder which would support Mr. Jukes’ ponderous weight. One was found and lowered, and soon all stood on the silent decks which for so long had not echoed the footsteps of a human being.

“Away forward and muzzle that bell, some of you,” ordered the captain briskly. “The sound of the thing gets on my nerves.”

“Send them all forward,” supplemented Mr. Jukes. “Tell them to search the forecastle, anything to keep them busy. We will examine the cabins and officers’ quarters.”

“Are we to accompany you, sir?” asked Jack hesitatingly.

For a fraction of a second the millionaire seemed plunged in thought. Then he arrived at one of his characteristic quick decisions.

“Why not?” he asked, half to himself it seemed. “Later I shall have something to say to all of you. You have wondered at the object of this cruise, no doubt?”

Captain Sparhawk nodded gravely.

“I have guessed you had some great end to serve in it, Mr. Jukes,” he said.

“An end which has now been reached, I fear,” said the millionaire solemnly. “But come, let us proceed with our examination.”