"You must be either very much cleverer than you seem, or
very much more foolish. You keep me continually guessing as to
which it is."
CHAPTER XIII
Towards six o'clock that evening, without any apparent change in the
situation, Captain Jones descended from the bridge and signalled to
Crawshay, whom he passed on the deck, to follow him into his room. The
great ship was still going at full speed through a sea which was as
smooth as glass.
"Getting out of it, aren't we?" Crawshay enquired.
The captain nodded. His hair and beard were soaked with moisture, and
there were beads of wet all over his face. Otherwise he seemed little
the worse for his long vigil. In his eyes, however, was a new anxiety.
"Another five miles," he confided, "should see us in clear weather."
"Steamer's still following us, isn't she?"
"Sticking to us like a leech," was the terse reply. "She is not out of
any American port. She must have just picked us up. She isn't any
ordinary cargo steamer, either, or she couldn't make the speed."
"I've worked it out by your chart," Crawshay declared, "and it might
very well be the Blucher. I don't think I made the altered course wide
enough, and she might very well have been hanging about a bit when she
struck the fog and heard our engines.
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