The two young men now mounted the stone bench by the
door, which allowed them to look over the ledge at the eastern sea.
Presently the craft appeared round the end of the island, pure white,
floating like a swan on the water, and making great headway.
"By Jove!" said Jack, "she's a fine one. Looks like the Czar's yacht,
but no Russian vessel I know of can make that speed."
"She's got the ear-marks of Thornycroft build about her," commented
Drummond. "By Jove, Jack, what luck if she should prove to be English.
No flag flying, though."
"She's heading for us," said Jack, "and apparently she knows which
side the cannon is on. If she's Russian, they've taken it for granted
we've captured the whole place, and are in command of the guns. There,
she's turning."
The steamer was abreast of the rock, and perhaps three miles distant.
Now she swept a long, graceful curve westward and drew up about half a
mile east of the rock.
"Jove, I wish I'd a pair of good glasses," said Drummond. "They're
lowering a boat."
Jack showed more Highland excitement than Russian stolidity, as he
watched the oncoming of a small boat, beautifully riding the waves,
and masterfully rowed by sailors who understood the art. Drummond
stood imperturbable as a statue.
"The sweep of those oars is English, Jack, my boy."
As the boat came nearer and nearer Jack became more and more agitated.
"I say, Alan, focus your eyes on that man at the rudder.
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