towing her in the dory. They found the towing hard work, for stream and swell set against them and the light boat was jerked backward by the tightening line as she lurched over the steep undulations. Then, in spite of their care, the line would range forward along her side as she sheered, and there was danger of its drawing her under. Though the air was raw, they were bathed in perspiration before they had made half a mile; and Bethune paused a moment to cool his blistering hands in the water.

“This kind of thing is rather strenuous when you’re not used to it,” he grumbled.

Jimmy was glad of a moment’s rest; but immediately there came a cry from Moran. “Watch out! Where you going to?”

Looking round, they saw the Cetacea’s bowsprit close above their heads as she lurched toward them on the back of a smooth sea. Pulling hard, with the hampering rope across her, they got the dory round, and afterward rowed steadily, while their breath came short and the sweat dripped from them. It was exhausting work; but Bethune pointed out the fact that they had not embarked on a pleasure excursion.

At last Moran dropped anchor; and, boarding the sloop, the men spent an hour of keen suspense watching the sea. The island had faded to a faint, dark blur, and all round the rest of the circle an unbroken wall of mist rested on the smoothly lifting swell. None of them had anything to say; they smoked in anxious silence, their eyes fixed on the glassy water which gave no sign of hiding anything below.

Bethune impatiently jumped up.

“This is too tedious for me!” he exclaimed. “Can’t we sweep for the wreck from the dory with the bight of a line?”

“You want to keep fresh,” Moran warned him. “If she’s there, she’ll show up before long.”

They waited, Jimmy quietly glancing at his watch now and then; and at last Moran stretched out a pointing hand.

“What’s that, to starboard?” he asked.

For a few moments, during which the tension set their nerves on edge, the others saw nothing; and then a faint ripple broke the glassy surface of the swell. It smoothed out and the long heave swung undisturbed across the spot for a time; but the ripple appeared again, with a dark streak in the midst of it.

“Weed!” cried Bethune. “It must grow on something!”

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