“They don’t seem to be following us now,” observed Ned, after they had watched the tug continuing on her course.
“No, it looks as if they were taking another tack,” said Maurice De Vere. “I wonder if he can have private information as to the location of the brig? If he has he may get ahead of me and discover her first.”
“I don’t believe he has,” was Jerry’s opinion. “I think he is on a blind search, just as we are.”
“I hope so. It means a great deal to me to find that derelict.”
“What had we better do?” asked Bob. “Can’t we get ahead of him in some way?”
“I know of no other way than to cruise about until we find the brig,” replied Mr. De Vere. “It is only a chance, but luck may favor us first. That is all we can hope for.”
All that day they cruised fruitlessly about, and the next day was equally barren of result.
“I’m afraid you’ll think we’re not very good derelict hunters,” remarked Jerry on the morning of the third day after the storm, when they took an observation, and saw nothing but a vast extent of water. The weather was calm, the sun shone brightly and the Ripper was making good time.
“No,” was the answer. “It isn’t your fault. This was in the nature of an experiment, and I do not expect immediate results. I figured on being three weeks on this search, and we have only spent about a third of that time. We are yet on the safe side, although I admit it is rather disappointing.”
After breakfast they resumed their observations. It was nearly eight bells when Ned, who had been stationed in the bow with the powerful glasses, cried out:
“I see something.”
“Where?” asked Mr. De Vere eagerly.
“Off the left.”
Mr. De Vere took the glasses and peered long and anxiously through them at a small speck which Ned pointed out as it rose and fell on the crest of the billows.
“Is it the derelict?” asked Jerry, appearing in the companionway.
“I don’t know,” answered Ned. “It looks like some sort of a ship, but I’m afraid to be positive, because we’ve had so many false alarms.”
“It’s some sort of a ship,” remarked Mr. De Vere suddenly as he passed the glasses to Jerry. “I make it out to be a brig, and, from the way it is jibing about, it seems to be under no control. See what you think.”
Jerry took a careful look.
“It’s a brig, sure enough,” he declared, “and I can’t see any sign of life on her.”
“Put us over that way,” requested Mr. De Vere, of Ned, who was steering and running the engine. “When we get a little nearer I may be able to make out the name.”
There were anxious hearts beating in the breasts of those aboard the Ripper. Could it be possible that the ship they saw was the derelict for which they had been searching? They all hoped so.
Ned speeded the motor up to the highest notch and the boat fairly flew through the calm sea. Near and nearer it came to the ship, which could now plainly be made out. There was not a sail set, and this was peculiar in itself. The brig idly rose and fell on the long, heaving swells.
“It’s my ship!” suddenly cried Mr. De Vere, after a lengthy observation through the binoculars. “I can make out her name. It’s the Rockhaven! Hurrah, boys! We have found her at last!”
“And Blowitz and his tug are nowhere in sight!” cried Ned. “We have beaten him!”
“Indeed we have,” went on Mr. De Vere. “Now, Ned, see how soon you can put us alongside.”
“It will not take long,” declared the young engineer. “It’s only a few miles.”
The Ripper proved worthy of her name, for she fairly “ripped” through the waves, and, in a short time, was so close to the derelict that they had to slow up.
“Put us up under the port quarter,” advised Mr. De Vere. “Luckily there is not much of a swell on, and we can easily get aboard as she sets low in the water. She must be leaking.”
With skillful hand Ned brought the motor boat alongside. The anchor chains were hanging low from the hawse holes and as they approached Jerry prepared to catch hold and swing himself up. He had reached out his hand, and was just going to grasp the links, when, from the deck of the deserted brig there came savage growls and barks. Jerry jumped back in alarm and Ned, who had jammed a boat hook in the side of the brig, to hold the Ripper steady, looked up.
“It’s dogs!” he cried. “Two of ’em!”
As he spoke two savage looking creatures thrust their heads up over the low rail. They were large dogs, of the wolf-hound variety; great shaggy creatures, and they growled in a menacing manner.
“They must have left the dogs aboard when they so strangely deserted the ship,” said Mr. De Vere. “I suppose they’re glad to see us. They must be lonesome. Try again, Jerry. I would, if I had the use of my two arms.”
Once more Jerry prepared to ascend by means of the chains, but the dogs almost leaped over the rail at him, showing their teeth, while the hair on as much of their backs as could be seen stood up in ridges. Foam dripped from their jaws.
“Look out!” cried Bob. “Those dogs are mad! Be careful!”
Savage growls and barks from the angry beasts emphasized his words. There was no doubt of it. The dogs were mad from fear and hunger. They disputed the advance of the voyagers, and would not let them aboard.
“Try on the other side,” suggested Mr. De Vere.
The boat was worked around to the other side of the bow, but the dogs followed, and stood on guard there.
“Maybe we can get up at the stern,” said Jerry. “Perhaps the dogs can’t make their way aft.”
But it was the same there. The maddened animals were ready to fly at the throats of any one who should attempt to board the derelict.
“What’s to be done?” asked Ned. “We didn’t count on this. Those are fierce dogs.”
“Indeed they are,” replied Mr. De Vere. “It would not be safe to risk getting too close to them.”
“But what can we do?” asked Jerry. “If we wait here too long, Blowitz may appear.”
“We’ve got to do something,” said the boy’s employer. “The only thing I can see to do is to shoot the dogs. I’ll get my rifle,” and he went into the cabin, where he had left his weapon, one of several he had brought aboard.